


It Takes Two

by eventidexilluminations



Series: Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: ATC Castiel, Alternate Universe, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Minor Character Death, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Relapsing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 102,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eventidexilluminations/pseuds/eventidexilluminations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak is thirty years old with a stable job, an affection-craving cat, and a best friend two doors down that does not mind his attitude or piercings. He should be happy, and in some aspects, he is. Though, there was still something missing. </p>
<p>Then Dean Winchester crashed into him and his whole life changed.</p>
<p>Not all in the best of ways, either, and they both find themselves dealing with demons of the past and helping one another out. </p>
<p>While avoiding the authorities, Castiel thought that was an important detail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spur of the moment deal because obviously the solution to not finishing up the latest chapter of Through Our Eyes like I want is to start another story;; Most of it is done, but it's not coming out how I want, sadly. But, everything is on track for graduation and my degree is within grasp, so I'm happy about that, haha. Maybe that bit of news will help me out with writing and not be so stressed out. 
> 
> There are still kinks to be worked out and all, like with anything that is spontaneous, but I do hope you'll enjoy it and feel free to help out with the plot, if you'd like, that'd be amazing. The bits and pieces related to aeronautics and flight training and all are based on classes I took in community college. They were really fun and I thought writing about something I know would be best. The title is thanks to my girlfriend who supplied it when I had no idea what to call it. 
> 
> Hope you like it! :D

If anyone knew Castiel in his teenage years, it might be a safe bet that they would not recognise him now.

Because the Castiel of past was, to put it bluntly, a pain in the ass to most with an appearance that no "self-respecting young man" would be caught dead with and told many more times than he can count that if he were only a bit more like his twin, Jimmy, he would have a better future that was not risking being out on the streets shooting up heroin or stealing to remain alive. Castiel, obviously, had snorted at that and continued challenging the authority at school, he ditched for the sake of just doing it because he had the option to do so, he continued getting his supply of pills from one of the seedier clique and smoked with them sometimes, he loved dying his hair outrageous colours to see how far he could push the limits of his freedom, he loved the rush when he went to get a new piercing or talk designs for a tattoo he swore he was going to get and he did as soon as he turned eighteen, along with a few others.

And he still graduated, on time, and with an impressive GPA considering how often he skipped class. It was not something that would get him into a prestigious university, but he did not want to go anyway, he would stick out like a sore thumb and was happy to take the community college route like his brother had chosen. Jimmy did it for the sake of money, their small family–his mother who worked herself to the bone to provide ever since their father left them high and dry, and the twins–not poor, but not rich enough to pay the portion of his tuition that would not be covered, Castiel did it because it seemed like a good option overall. He would still be going to school, not that he knew what he would major in, though it would keep his mother off his back and make him fit that cookie cutter expectation of not being a lazy youth and taking a year or more off.

His first semester, he ended up scrolling through the list of classes, not really caring what he got so long as he fulfilled the units to be a full time student and receive all his financial aid, telling his very exasperated mother that he was exploring his options when she realised that he declared undecided. It was a clusterfuck of classes, to say the least, a calculus class he tested into, ASL, yoga, and two classes in the aeronautics department that sounded interesting enough based on their descriptions. They also sounded easy enough that he would either not have to go all the time, or he could generally be high or whatnot without it impairing his ability to do well if he did go.

The first day he went to those aeronautics classes and he was handed the syllabi, he read the required items, went to the book store, and could only stare at the E6-B in his hand because what the fuck? He was expecting an actual calculator looking calculator, a modern one, not this metal, ancient looking thing that honest to God had a piece that spun. It was probably the drugs that made him want to burst out laughing in the middle of the bookstore with this thing in hand. Despite that, as the classes progressed, Castiel found himself picking everything up quickly enough and preferred these to his other classes, even swung by more often regardless of if the classes were early in the morning and he would rather be sleeping the last night off. At one point, about three weeks in, his professor made an announcement about the flight school and how they accepted only a certain amount of people from the aeronautics classes and if anyone was interested, the applications were there for the taking. Castiel had grabbed one to simply look through, out of mind once shoved in his messenger bag, until his professor sat next to him during their break and asked him when could she expect to see his application.

After a talk that went well over the assigned break time, the eighteen year old found himself filling out the application and writing his essay to turn in the next day. His mother was ecstatic, of course, claiming it was a reason to go out and celebrate, that Jimmy could also bring this girl he met named Amelia. Jimmy had whined about it, telling her not to make a big deal and Castiel had fucked around with him, asking if he did not want to bring her because she would get one look at him and realise who the better choice was. That had gotten him to stop complaining and tell him Amelia would never, especially not with how Castiel looked, all wild hair with blue tips and enough holes punched in his body to be compared to salad colander by his mother more than plenty reasons to scare her off, not to mention how he seemed allergic to commitment.

There was no protest from him because he knew his twin was joking but he also knew it was true. Most knew both of them and those that met Jimmy first always, without a doubt, were shocked to see him and awkwardly tried to carry on a conversation, pointedly avoiding his hair or his face or sometimes even him altogether. And his track record with relationships was long in names, but not time spent together. Some of them were only as long as they were because he was caught by his mother in his room and he wanted to spare her delicate heart. Also not hear her lecture about how his choices were reckless and how he worried her, but that was something else altogether.

His cycle of pills, alcohol, and occasional one night stands–sex was boring, though, over time, so repetitive–alongside school–including the flight school he was accepted into–continued and honestly looking back, Castiel had no idea how what happened took so long to happen.

The college student kept in the aeronautics classes, declaring his major aviation science, went to practice flying with his professor who was his instructor and joined the flying team in his second semester. At the beginning of his fall, Castiel comprehended the fact that he was increasingly dependant on his pills and his tolerance was growing. It was likely a sense of hubris that had him thinking he was fine, that he could keep going and so he did with school, with practice, with life.

Jimmy had watched him falling, voiced his concerns often, more so when he had to cover for him when he was too far gone, sleeping the entire day or stumbling in hours passed the curfew their mother set on the hopes of keeping him from slipping away. He had merely given his twin a languid, drug-induced smile those times and patted his cheek or wherever his hand landed, telling him not to worry and that he felt great. He had always muttered that was the whole problem before slipping into bed with him, foreheads touching and a hand loosely wrapped around his wrist, which Jimmy later told him was because he was scared that he was going to stop breathing and this way, he could feel he was still alive because just seeing his eyes proved nothing to him with how blunted they were.

But, that was okay, to him, back then, his life. And yeah, sometimes he had no idea how the hell he got to class, how he managed to drive to school when Jimmy had no classes and he did without crashing, how he managed to stay awake in class and yeah, he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, itching for some more pills, restless and agitated if he did not get them, but he was perfectly okay.

Until one day, it became crystal clear, maybe as clear as it had been in months, years even, that he was not okay at all.

If he could drive a car on his own, he figured he could fly a plane with an instructor by his side. The Cessna 152 he chose for his practice, like all the planes they had for the school, had dual controls, to prevent any accidents. And, that particular day, Castiel had no idea what was going on with whatever he took. He felt like throwing up, screaming, and curling up into a ball simultaneously and his breathing was erratic, a weight pressing down on his chest, his mind racing with no coherent thoughts, random spouts of panic coming and going. He made a commitment to fly that day, however, and he was okay, he was perfectly okay, it would pass, it would, it had to, it always did. So he gave the best smile he could to his instructor, spoke as clear and evenly as he could, got everything ready, went through all the process as he should and they were up in the air as they should be, his instructor going on about what they would do today and directing him where to go and to this day, he could not say what was the last thing he heard.

Whatever it was, the next thing he knew, he was staring up at the sky and his instructor's face came into view, pinched with worry and her blonde hair looking strangely ethereal, all gold and glowing. She explained that he was in the middle of inducing a stall when he had suddenly passed out over the controls and she had landed immediately, barely having gotten off the phone with his brother. When asked what had happened, he gave an excuse, something about lack of sleep and stress, and he still felt bad for lying to her when she had done so much to help him out. Jimmy had arrived not long after, dropped off by Amelia since he had the car, frantic in his questioning his instructor and Castiel was sort of just there, barely having the capacity to sit there and blink then pulled up by his brother, supported by him all the way to the car. The ride home was quiet and that was okay, Castiel was having trouble keeping his eyes open and every time he closed them, Jimmy would smack his arm to keep him up until they were back at home and as soon as the door was closed behind him, there was a fist in his face.

That was the first time Jimmy ever hit him.

"You bastard!"

It was also the first time he was so angry at him that he swore at him that way.

Castiel had, as expected, been knocked flat on his ass, hand over his throbbing nose, but his brother was not having that, oh no. He picked him up and shoved him against the wall, hung picture frames shuddering from the impact, and he had yelled at him, yelled himself hoarse about how he was killing himself, how he needed help, how he could not keep watching him do this to himself, how he put others in danger by driving and flying, how he had to stop, please, just stop.

It was the first time Castiel saw Jimmy break down and cry because of him and he swore that it would be the last.

He had pleaded with him not to send him to a centre or to any doctor, that would be marked in his medical record and he still wanted his license, still wanted to follow the path he was on and it would be extremely difficult to do so if he had the label addict and substance abuser, that it might be considered history of mental illness and that would for sure have them dismiss him. The condition was that Jimmy monitor his intake as he tapered off and he would have to take the summer off to make it easier on himself and more if needed. What he did not tell him, and what Castiel would have protested to if he did know, was that Jimmy was taking the time off as well and as soon as he had told Amelia, she did the same, all to watch over him.

Castiel owed his life to both of them.

From there, he promised them both and himself that he would not slip up again, he would not fall into that lifestyle again, he would get his shit together and do good, he would not shut himself off from his mother, he would change in the important aspects of his life, in choices he made. And, as expected, he did not change his appearance immediately, thinking it harmless, he still had dyed hair and piercings for some time. Only when he had to transfer and thus leave home was the former dyed black, to a more or less close mimic to his natural hair colour. His mother had cried when she saw him step out of the shower and then again when seeing him off.

His piercings, well, those were a bit harder to get rid of. He was comfortable with them, they were like a part of him by this point and he knew that piercings that could be seen were essentially the biggest red flag he could wave that meant do not hire him. The option of retainers was offered by his brother and Amelia one night when they were Skyping and he grimaced at the thought, they were meant to be seen, not hidden like they never existed at all. Sadly, his septum clicker and lip rings that he loved so much were substituted for retainers when the time came to try and move on with his career, but only when the interviews came, whereas his eyebrow piercings he stared at sadly, considering something similar and he eventually removed them altogether, the retainers too obvious against his tan skin and a lot of hassle overall.

The rest, they could not exactly be seen, he rationalised, so keeping them was perfectly okay.

So, yes, he had gotten his shit together, he went through school, he was at the top of his class, he made his mother and brother proud, he even had a long term girlfriend and boyfriend at one point. Not at the same point, but he would have been up for it if they had. Castiel was happy by himself at the time, though, and Inias and Hannah had both taken it well, they remained friends, even when they were stationed in different places.

Castiel happened to be station in Southern California and it was alright, he supposed. Before moving around for school, he had lived in Pontiac his whole life and for all that it was worth, the big deal made in movies about California really was exaggerated and if he had actually held any hope in it, he would have been disappointed. It was grossly hot in the summer, not all fun in the sun, even the winters were hot now, and the coldest it ever got that was terrifyingly cold to Californians and the end of the world so they had to wear near ten layers was about thirty two degrees. No matter, he had his job, he found an apartment, he even adopted a cute little black cat that no one else seemed to want at the shelter nearby his apartment, he did what he had to and he was generally happy about everything.

Generally had to be enough, right?

Yes, of course.

After a few years, Castiel had a routine of sorts. Granted, there were variations here and there, whenever he needed to take a different shift because of holidays or an illness going around, but overall, he had some sense of seniority and so his schedule was not as wonky as some of the new employees, who looked half dead walking in sometimes.

Thus was the life of an air traffic controller.

He personally dealt with it before, the seemingly endless hours, the blink of an eye he had to call sleep before hauling himself up to get to work, going through the slow hours, staring out at the runway and tapping at headset for a lack of proper music or contemplating how much attention his cat, Queen, would demand for his lack of being present. And the busy hours were exhausting, though when he did not feel like pulling his hair out, it was relatively painless and quick.

Now, he was satisfied with his schedule now, one that allowed him a little more of a "normal" weekend, and he was content to spend most of it in his apartment, flipping through channels with Queen on his lap, scratching her head and doing his best to ignore how it stung when her nails dug in passed his worn navy sweats. Queen did not want that for him, always wanting and Castiel spoilt her as always, more incentive to it when she would not stop meowing incessantly and pawing at his chest, claws snagging on his shirt and his resolve crumbling when she caught his nipple rings because he quite liked having them and his nipples intact, he did not want her to tear them off.

"How may I be of service now, my Queen?"

All she did was meow at him until he placed her on the carpet and got up to follow her all the way up to her food bowls. The dry food was all there, wet food gone and she was staring up expectantly at him.

"Your food is there. Go on, eat it."

Stare.

"Go. Eat."

Stare.

"Don't be picky, I got you your favourite."

Meow.

"I'm not biking all the way to get your food."

Meow.

"No."

Meow.

Stare.

This stare down lasted all but ten seconds before Castiel sighed, bent down to scoop her up and head to his room.

"This is the last time I'm doing this for you."

That was what he said last time and the time before that, the same way as he got dressed in dark blue jeans that he knew were clean, an old ACDC shirt and whatever decent looking black jacket he could grab and the same way that after he slipped on his shoes, he picked her back up, checked for his wallet and keys and left his apartment, going two doors down and knocking. And just as before, the door opened and he was greeted with a smile, mischievous blue eyes and would have been in the man's arms if not for his cat.

"Ah, Cassie, whatever can I do for you?"

"Hello, Balthazar. I was wondering if you might watch Queen, I need to go to the store."

"Ah, her Highness has requested more food again?"

"Yes."

The blonde chuckled and accepted the cat, adjusting her against his chest and shaking his head.

"Naught but a humble servant of hers still, I see."

"Says the one who comes whenever she calls."

Their friendly banter had been normal for them for years now, ever since they met. Castiel first met Balthazar when he moved in, the blonde leaning against the railing of the stairs, watching him taking up his boxes of things until Castiel had gotten fed up with him and told him to take a damn picture, it would last longer.

Balthazar did.

And it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Well, actually, it had become more than that at one point, about after a year of knowing each other and sharing lunch and dinners at one another's apartment, the Brit even waiting for him sometimes at his apartment when his schedule was all over the place and making food was the last thing on his mind. He told him that he should just work as a model or something, he had a pretty face and charming personality, which made them both laugh because maybe he was physically attractive, but his personality left much to be desired for most people and the same applied for Balthazar. They were just their own category of bordering on inappropriate–the blonde was a deal more lewd, Castiel merely lacked a filter–and they found company with each other.

Balthazar could model for the both of them just fine, he told him every time, and he would not want to steal the spotlight, so he was happy with his job as an air traffic controller and chances in between to fly a plane, though he was sad to say it was not his. Both of them were fine with never really saying they were committed, despite what it may seem like to someone on the outside looking in. At one point, they were, perhaps, now they were close in a different way. Not quite boyfriends or partners, but not quite friends either, more than that. Whatever middle ground they were at, they enjoyed it and they exchanged a customary kiss on the cheek before Castiel went on his way.

His bike was nothing special in name or nifty in extra features, though it was special to him. It was a gift from his brother and mother his second year here, with a note from the former not to get fat on take out and the latter how much she missed him. As he biked down the streets in his far too sunny city, he counted how long it would be until he would be able to go back to Pontiac to visit and arrived at the local Trader Joe's in record time. Although he never fretted over his bike being stolen, he did secure it to the bike rack as an extra precaution before strolling in, already knowing what aisle to go to, where to reach and how many.

He may get his cute Queen what she wanted, but in moderation.

So, five cans were paid for, bagged, and he was setting the bag down to grab his keys when it happened.

"Heads up!"

To his credit, he did lift his head up to see who said that, he had that. Another thing he had was maybe, at the very least, a hundred seventy pounds of very solid human crash into him and send them both down to the ground. To the other man's credit, he recovered a lot quicker, up on his feet in no time and yanking him up too and talk about a head rush.

"Shit, sorry, man. Heads up usually means move."

Castiel was ready to snap back some witty reply when this man's attention turned behind him, whatever he saw making him curse and drag him and his bag that he just barely caught sight to behind the store. That should have alerted Castiel that something was up with this man, not everyone hides behind stores after colliding with a stranger because he was in a hurry. He had dealt with worse in his past and that was accountable to his lack of panic. The other's hand was still on his wrist and when he looked down, he noticed a very shiny, very metal, very handcuff looking item clasped around the wrist of the hand holding the paper bag.

He had handcuffs. On his wrist. That meant he was probably running from the police. He committed some kind of crime.

And of course, all he had to blurt out was, "My Queen wants her food. May I go now?"

The incredulity in those green eyes was met with a raised eyebrow and the laugh that followed when criminal stranger peered into the bag shifted his expression none.

"Oh, dude, your cat's name is Queen?"

"She is a very regal feline, if you must know."

"I believe you. But, buddy, you saw the cuffs, I'm not exactly on the most loveable guys list, I can't be letting people who see me go."

"If this is your attempt to frighten me into silence if I wish to live, it is very poor."

"I'm not the murdering type."

"Most murderers say the same thing."

Most victims also tend to be scared, not throwing back quips at the one who attacks them, but Castiel thought he could defend himself well and this man had not done anything yet. Were he to be attacked, he could immobilise him, at least temporarily, and make his escape. What came next was not so much an attack more than a hell of a surprise, feeling the cold metal around his wrist and click of its jaws closing on him, trapping him, in no manner but clear keeping him stuck with this man that was grinning at him like he pulled the best prank in creation.

He was being punk'd, right?

There was no way.

"Sorry, man, but just because I'm not going to kill you doesn't mean I can let you run off. Looks like your Queen will have to wait for her fancy feast."

There was a way and that way was happening.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel had no idea he would dig himself into a hole this deep without doing much but being handcuffed to a guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, how exciting. Any typos are my bad, I write this on my iPhone as I watch Deep Space Nine with my brother and looking through some files and notes, so that probably accounts for a lot of that, my bad;;
> 
> If there are any inaccuracies about how city hall works or anything, my bad, again. I've been to the city hall in my city only a few times and volunteered only once before and that was some years ago. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :D

"I really think this is uncalled for."

"So are the cops on my ass, but that's life."

Castiel sighed, flexing his fingers as much as he could with holding the other's hand as they walked through the crowded streets. The other had removed the scarf he was wearing and wrapped the silky like material around both their arms, hiding the handcuffs as best it could with the least amount of suspicion and the parts that were not clasped between their joined hands. Where they were going, he had no idea. After gaping at the cuff on his wrist, the man had promised him he would pay him back for the food, trashed it, pulled him along and they had not stopped since then.

"They wouldn't be if you never did whatever you did that broke the law."

"Man, I'm innocent. I don't know how many times I got to tell you that."

In the short time that Castiel knew this man, he had said that about three times already whenever the subject came up and he did a hell of a job looking and sounding convinced about it. The ATC could give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he really did do no wrong and he was one of the unfortunate souls that was arrested because he was some guy on the street that just so happened to fit some witness description, innocently trying to have a simple walk. After all, how many six foot men with green eyes and short, brown hair could there be around here? Castiel would rather not do the math for the sake of letting himself believe he was not in a very shitty situation and go on happily believing everything but. In any case, were that to be true, he escaped police custody and that, as he knew it, was a crime. Who knew, maybe he assaulted them in his get away. And although Castiel would not press charges, would this not count as some sort of kidnapping, something?

Right now, he was a bit more bored than anything else.

And thinking about how Balthazar was getting along with Queen when she did not have her food.

"Here we are."

His thoughts came to a halt when he stared at the motel that had admittedly seen much better days and looked like one of those shots from the movies where all the drug addicts hung out and snorted and shot up and Castiel was not going to go down that road to confirm or deny how accurate a representation that was because that was ten years ago, that was his past and crappy as it was, that meant all the memories and consequences were to stay there.

That did beg the question, though.

"Are you an addict? Or a dealer?"

That would explain his run-in with the police. But, he did not look dependant on anything, so dealer was more likely. The grip on his hand had tightened, metal biting into his palm and the man looked angry. Not at his question, or at him. There was more to it and that more was something kind of like what he had seen reflected in his brother's eyes, now that he thought about it, and then it was gone before he had a chance to evaluate it thoroughly, the other relaxing and giving a short laugh.

"Nah. That shit messes you up, I'm not screwing myself over like that. I might be stupid enough to run from cops, but I'm not that stupid."

Way to insult without knowing, Castiel thought bitterly, and his initial neutrality towards him shifted a little towards the negative. Which was stupid because he had no idea who Castiel was, how he had grown up. He did not even know his damn name and vice versa.

Castiel should probably at least get to know his name instead of calling him that man or criminal stranger.

"We're here because we need a place to crash until nighttime and this isn't the Ritz, so no cops coming around here."

"Why until nighttime? Are you leaving then? Because I have work tomorrow, it would be best if you left by then."

The man had merely laughed once again and bumped his shoulder with his own, shaking his head as they walked towards the check in.

"You're funny, you know that? A bit weird, but funny."

Castiel was perfectly aware he could be a goddamn riot when he wanted to be. He was not trying to be now but if he wanted that, then he damn well could be in how he released the other's hand, allowing the chain to fall in between their hands and tugged sharply at it, enjoying the wince of pain and questioning look from the one in front as this runner from the law was trying to get them a room, handing over some cash and receiving a key in exchange. When they were heading out, Castiel had to refrain from looking back and saying something that was either going to get a laugh, get a punch, or get them thrown out before they even stepped foot into their room.

"You kids be as loud as you want, ain't nothing I haven't heard around here before!"

Truthfully, Castiel did none of the above for the mere fact that he was more than disturbed at how elated the man sounded that such was true and he probably got off on it, so best not to poke the proverbial bear, maybe he was one of those sick ones that loved the "feisty" ones and that was not what he would like to be known as. It caused a gross roiling in his stomach to think about now, to be completely and painfully sober and be exposed to that again, to what had once rolled off his back so easily if for the sake of more, of chasing that high, of everything he thought his world needed because it felt, tasted, sounded, looked, smelt amazing, like nothing he had ever experienced before and never could without it.

"Never been in a room like this?"

Realising he had spent all this time staring at the peeling wallpaper with more than a few questionable stains, rickety old table, and two decent sized beds, the man blew off the question by being the one this time around guiding them to stand in front of the bed.

"You'll have sit or lay on the floor."

"Why?"

"Because I need my sleep and these beds are no doubt bolted in place to prevent them being stolen."

"It's not even seven o'clock, who the hell goes to sleep right now?"

"I do when I have an early morning shift."

Castiel took no more argument and, as much as he hated the idea of being on this bed that no doubt saw way too many filthy and perverse acts, he dropped down on it, having to adjust himself on his side so the handcuff on his wrist would not dig in too much, eyes shutting and dismissing the look of outrage on the other's face.

"You could at least warn a guy!"

"I did. You just didn't listen well enough."

"What if I need to pee? Or get something?"

"You should've thought about that before handcuffing us together."

"What if _you_ need to pee?"

"Then I'll go to the bathroom and pee. Any other needless questions?"

"So you don't care if some stranger sees your dick?"

"My dick is very much impressive, I see no reason to be ashamed. Would you care to dispense with the pleasantries and judge it already?"

Criminal stranger had nothing to say to that and with a self-satisfied smirk, Castiel settled in and tried his best to sleep. But this man kept making obnoxious noises with his mouth, popping and smacking and blowing out exaggerated puffs of air, jingling around the chain of the handcuff, singing under his breath until Castiel cracked an eye open, waiting for a good moment, and jerked his hand when it presented itself, effectively smacking the man with his own hand.

"Ow!"

"Will you shut up? I'm tired, you kidnapped me, and you should at least show some respect to the very fact that I did not scream bloody murder when you did and get you caught."

This man only rubbed his cheek before shrugging, far too content sitting on the floor of this motel room than one should be.

"Sure, I'll respect that. But, so long as we're chained together, I'd like to know why you didn't. And your name, what you do, things like that."

"Will I get to sleep then?"

"Maybe."

Castiel let out a long suffering sigh, sitting up and tugging at the chains to get him to sit on the edge of the bed as well. He would kick him off when this was done, but for now, saw no reason to keep him subjected to the hard, grimy floor.

"My name is Castiel Novak. I'm an air traffic controller, I fly for recreational purposes on the side. I don't know what you've done to have the police on you and I don't care much. In any case, my bike was left and Balthazar will report me missing soon enough."

The stillness in the air had him glance over at the man who, for all intents and purposes, was staring at him like he just told him that he was the potential murderer and he punted puppies on his spare time because he enjoyed it. He knew he was nothing special, he was not some renown pilot or ATC, he did not commit crimes or was on television on America's Most Wanted, so what had he said that was so damn shocking?

"You fly?"

"Yes."

"A plane."

"That's typically what's flown if you have a license for it and not helicopters."

"Man, what is _wrong_ with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"A fucking plane is like–like a steel death trap! Something that heavy shouldn't be able to get up in the air that way!"

"Actually, it's the simple mechanics of–"

"It's _unnatural_ is what it is, dude. It's an accident waiting to happen and you can't just pull off to the side of the road with that. You just crash and burn and die."

The other hand started gesticulating wildly to make his point, all the way up to the horrifying and dramatic crash of his make-shift plane that although he could not blow to pieces unless he wanted one less hand, he did an okay job of mimicking it. Castiel stared openly, at how wide his eyes were and everything he had done before leaning back some, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You're afraid of flying."

"I'm just smart enough to know a death sentence when I see it."

"A car is a death sentence in comparison to a plane."

"Not even close. A car, you can control a car, you're on land, not up in the sky."

"You know that is availability heuristic in play, correct? Like when people think sharks are the most dangerous thing out there."

Castiel saw the other's expression twist into a more petulant one and he swore he made a face at him before the argument–who has an argument about planes' safety with someone who kidnapped them?–was deemed over. Thus far, the man hardly seemed of any real danger to him. Just someone he might meet casually at a bar when he went with Balthazar but not at a coffee shop. Something told him he was not the coffee shop type and he would stick out, anyway, with his field jacket, work shirt, jeans and logger boots combo and it was almost comical how stark the contrast between that and the scarf he wore was, might as well have been a neon sign. Not that Castiel considered judging because who the hell was he to judge? He was proud to have his septum and lips pierced and barbell through his tongue and had no shame in wearing the jewellery this moment and having them seen, he had a few more along with tattoos that if they were shown off with what he wore, let them, and he would smile when people stared and judged because if someone criticised him solely on appearance, then they were simply not worth the time. Judging others was nowhere on his list of things to do.

Sleep was.

But first, he might as well get some information from the other, as he did decide not to call him stranger.

"And you? What is your name, occupation, and why are you on the run?"

"I'm a mechanic. Cars, not planes. I told you, I was framed and I'm not too keen on being put in the slammer for something I didn't do."

"You sound certain you'll be found guilty."

"That's life."

"And your name?"

"Is that important?"

"Unless you want me calling you criminal every time I need to get your attention, even in public, it would be helpful."

"Not really giving me room to talk my way out of it here. Fine. Name's Dean, Dean Winchester."

Castiel hummed and considered the name, not having heard it on the news or radio in the past few days. That was some comfort, he supposed, that this Dean Winchester was not so horrible a person with a laundry list of crimes. It could have been much worse. Satisfied with that, the ATC stood up and headed towards the bathroom, Dean having to follow or fall flat on his face and dragged along.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to pee, I know your name, I believe that is enough of a relationship established for you to see my dick as I relieve myself."

Dean could keep him cooped up in the room and manacled together all he wanted, it did not mean that Castiel was not going to be meek and some snivelling mess. And the splutters the mechanic gave and attempt at some sense of privacy was his only source of entertainment at the moment.

The hours that followed were slow, drone of the television and chatter of the other as he tried to explain this Dr. Sexy not sufficient enough to bore him to sleep and enough to prevent sleep from coming. There was a bit more Castiel learnt of Dean in these hours. He was two years older than Castiel, he took over his family's business for reasons he did not state, he had a younger brother named Sam that he could go on about forever about how he was smart as a whip and could talk circles around anyone, so being a lawyer was natural to him and a wife named Jessica that he joked was too good for his baby brother.

Dean had tried to pry more out of him, but Castiel was adamant in not revealing much about himself, only giving basic facts about how it was to leave Pontiac for the first time, how California was different, when he got his first piercing and tattoo and, without a doubt, his cat Queen. Mentioning his family to a potential stranger hardly seemed reasonable and mentioning those in his life here in California was the farthest thing to make sense. What if he read the other wrong and he was actually some serial killer who got his kicks from skinning people or chopping them up into itty bitty pieces and he gave away the options for new victims? The likelihood was slim and he was not going to take the chance either way. Cheap digital clock displaying the time as eleven ten, this somehow was meaningful to Dean as he turned off the television and urged him to get up, Castiel having no choice but to follow.

He did not care about how he left the key on the table, nor did he care about how late it was and he was being made to move, he could last for awhile with the sleep he had before all this.

What he did care about was when Dean found a car in the parking lot and without a care of how much attention it would attract, smashed his elbow into the driver's window.

_"Dean!"_

What the hell?

"These new cars are harder to break into, I didn't exactly have time to get my tools, and it's not like they'll be missing much. I'll leave it around once I'm done."

He was chained to a reckless carjacker.

Resisting would be futile, so in he went through the driver's side, trying not to hit himself on anything and failing when he hit his head against the roof as he settled in. Dean slid in much more gracefully, that ass, and with far more expertise than Castiel could ever claim, hot-wired the car and took off.

Castiel was in a stolen car, handcuffed to the man who stole it and was tapping away a beat on the wheel like this was an every day occurrence and who knew, maybe it was for him.

"What is so important that you need to steal a car?"

"Information, Cas. By this time tomorrow, I'll be one step closer to being let off scot free and you can go back to your death traps."

That seemed a little too good to be true and his bland comment of, "We are more likely to die in this car," was met with a beat drummed out and lyrics belted out, so to spare himself from more of this, Castiel kept quiet and watched the houses and stores zip by. Only when he paid attention did he realise what direction they were going and had to question it because Dean said he was stupid enough to run from the police, not stupid enough to do drugs, but this level of stupidity was beyond his comprehension, it was practically running back into the arms of the police. As Dean parked a block away from his essential location of recapture, the ATC kept his eyes on the now very imposing building, trying to figure out how this made any sense at all to the other.

"You want to break into City Hall? Are you _insane?"_

"Pretty sure I'm not. I have my ways, don't worry about it. Let's go."

A bump on the head, curse, and walk later, they were standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the building with Dean checking the time on his freed hand. It gave some sense of reassurance, Castiel tried to believe, that he had some type of plan that required acting upon at certain times. Dean had nothing, though, nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever was in his pockets and even that was not enough for him to pick a car's lock at a little rundown motel, how was he expecting to get in without tripping alarms or running into security guards?

This was a huge mistake and his saving grace was that he had nothing to do with it, he was unlucky enough to be handcuffed to him and that was it, that would be understood, he would go back home after being questioned, and his life would continue on as always. Except, now that they were here, Dean opened the door as if it was still operational hours, no alarms, nothing, just a cheeky grin and nod of his head to enter.

Castiel did out of a mix of flabbergast and to get that smug look off his face, peering around for my guards before looking up at where the cameras were, not seeing them move or give any signs of working. As he followed the other down the halls, this became a recurrent theme.

"What did you do and when?"

Somehow, Castiel doubt from whenever he was caught, escaped, and crashed into him until now he had some capability to hack into the system and get this all set up. It would be impressive, no doubt, and it was also impossible.

"Someone owes me a favour, I cashed in."

The man had a feeling he should not ask, that it would get him in deeper than he already was, and stood around in a way that he could admit was rather useless as Dean leafed through some papers, deemed it unnecessarily troublesome and moved them over to a computer. Castiel would be a liar if he said he was not the least bit curious and did not peek over every once in awhile from his staring at the door and cameras. Names did not stand out any to him, nor did the locations and any reports and the like were a lost cause. It was careless of him to keep reading whatever popped up, seeing a few names in particular come up and he thought of asking when a whirring was heard that filled him with dread, wanting nothing more than to pretend it never happened and that he did not have to look up to confirm it. Alas, he did, and the goddamn thing was pointed right at them.

He was screwed.

They were both screwed.

"Dean! Dean, we have to go, the cameras are back online."

"Almost done."

Whatever reassurance he had about authorities understanding was out the window the moment that camera started working again because shit, fuck, what if they did not believe him, what if they said he did not do enough to stop the other, was too sympathetic, anything that would put the blame on him? After all his fucking work to have a good life, it would all be for naught because of a stupid camera and the stupid person who owed Dean a favour and could not keep them down long enough and this stupid man who was so ludicrously stupid that he was actually moving them to a printer to grab whatever it was he needed and stuff it in his jacket.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

Castiel was happy to oblige and hurry over to the door to get out of there. When he did, he was face to face with a security guard that looked anything but pleased that was already reaching for something or maybe he was lifting something up, Castiel had no idea what happened beyond the fact that he shouted.

"Fuck!"

And he slammed the door right in the guard's face.

He heard the cry of pain, he also heard another guard radioing in or something, and he heard both Dean and his own footsteps as they ran out the room through the other door. It would have been funny, maybe, how they jerked around when Dean wanted to go one way and Castiel wanted to go another, if Castiel was not panicking about the fact that he could possibly be charged with assault of some sort. In the end, Castiel took Dean's hand and hissed to follow him, he lived in the town, he knew their city hall better, and he sure as hell was not going to get caught here because of him.

If they had managed to get away after that, Castiel would have been a happy man. Needless to say, as they turned the corner and were faced with a security guard, he was far from happy.

"Hands behind your head, on your knees!"

"Whoa now, guy, I think it's a little too early for that, I don't even know you."

Castiel could only stare wide eyed at Dean because he was all up for backchat, he thrived on the damn thing, but not when someone was pointing a weapon at one that had no qualms whatsoever about using it and could be an almost guarantee to get one locked away. There was a time and place, he had learnt over the years, and this was not the time or place.

"I said on your knees!"

All Dean did was shrug at that and look over at him, squeezing his hand as he glanced at the guard, met his gaze again and nodded once.

What the hell did that mean?

Hand, guard, nod.

"Alright. But you got to excuse my partner here, he's got a bit of a trick knee, you see."

Hand, guard, nod.

As Dean lowered down and it clicked that he had called him his partner, he was ready to voice his denial when Dean caught his eye again with a more meaningful look and he finally understood what it meant, to which he shook his head at.

No way.

No way in hell.

As the guard came up to them, hell had different plans because the moment the security guard was close enough, the other head butted him, the man thrown off and before he could recuperate, possibly even beat them both on principle, Castiel grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his head into the wall, stepping back when he crumpled down and his hand still up grasping at air like it had no idea what to do or where to be now.

"Oh shit… shit, fuck…"

There were a lot more crude strings of words racing through his head that could not make it passed his lips and most of the rest of his brain function was focused keeping him from tripping over his feet as the two made their way out of the building, tripping the alarm but what did that matter? The police were probably already called and Castiel had just about thrown himself in the car without any prompting needed because fuck, he assaulted security guards, he ran away, how the hell was he going to explain his way out?

Through all this hysteria and manic rush of thoughts and possible scenarios of what was to come, the clarity of one, random thought popped up and he pegged it on his mind trying to keep itself from imploding.

"Did you head butt that guard in the crotch?"

Dean laughed and Castiel took that as a yes.

The mechanic continued driving through the night and Castiel remembered there was some short conversation until he told him to get some sleep. He did until Dean woke him up because they had to ditch the car and it was around six or so in the morning, getting spotted was not too big a risk. Most of the time, he was stuck in this daze in regards to what he had done, what that meant for him, _what had he done,_ so noticing the change in county came a little too late when he noticed the seal that was not of Los Angeles. If not for the fact that it stated what it was, Castiel would have stayed there, staring, trying to figure it out, instead of walking with Dean and into another cheap motel.

If Castiel was a crueller man, he would have taken to laying in bed and making the other sit on the floor again. Not to get him wrong, he sometimes could do or say things that people called him a jackass or rude for, attributed mainly to his lack of filtering what came out of his mouth and blatant disregard for rules if he found them unfair or useless, but he was not like that for giggles. Albeit for reasons of his own, like not wanting to get caught, and doing reckless things, Dean had managed to get them away from immediate trouble when Castiel was freaking out about it all and even insisted he sleep, that he could handle it all. So, Castiel grabbed a chair and sat down, telling Dean to sleep and he would take over for now. The mechanic had grinned at him, told him he knew he was warming up to him and got a scratchy pillow smacked into his face for his trouble, along with a deadpan, "Not even remotely close."

In this time, Castiel flipped through the few channels offered, nothing catching his interest and deciding to leave it on the channel five news, just in case. It proved to be both good and bad, he would later come to accept, as the latest on confirmed measles outbreak came to a close and the next story started up and he heard everything, could process the sounds and pictures, even as everything in him tried to reject what he was hearing.

"… brutal murder of Ruby Cortese…"

"… evidence found leading to…"

"… Dean Winchester recently escaped police custody…"

"… last seen with another male…"

This could not be happening.

"… shown his partner to be Castiel Novak…"

This could not be happening to him.

The camera switched to some shoddy type footage, from the night before, and he could not deny it, there he was, and then it went to some man, a police chief, something, and he started talking and Castiel wanted to throw up.

They were blaming him.

Whatever it was Dean had done, they were also blaming him. Whatever horrific murder Dean committed, they were also blaming him for it, being someone who helped him commit it and tried to cover it up because it was easier for them to explain and rationalise instead of considering he was stuck and they were blaming him, labelling him a criminal, someone on the run, he had not even known the man before he crashed into him.

"Oh my God…"

They were blaming him and he could not go back to set it right, not unless he wanted to try behind bars because they already branded him a criminal, someone capable of all these horrible things, who would listen?

"And now for the weather!"

Azures stayed on the screen, breath coming out surprisingly even. That was until they slid over to Dean and everything erupted, Castiel not giving two shits what it did to Dean as he jumped up and yanked at the handcuffs, startling him and leaving him fumbling.

"What the hell, Cas!"

"You bastard! You lied to me!"

He knew it was brash of him to lunge at the other–he heard the television call him a murderer not even five minutes ago–but he was angry and the other went down from the sudden attack. He knew it was brash of him to also wrap his hands around the other's neck but he had effectively fucked his life over ten ways to Sunday so why the fuck not go down with it, just roll with the punches and that was it. A pair of hands were suddenly gripping his head, thumbs digging into his eyes and a forehead colliding with his own, causing him to cry out and try to move as far back as he could, blinking the pain away with little time to react to when he was shoved down face first and arms twisted behind his back.

"You shouldn't be so close when trying to choke the life out of someone. Any farther, I wouldn't have been able to use both hands because of the cuffs."

Castiel's attempts to get back up were proving to be useless, the weight of the other and strain of his arms preventing him from doing much of anything beyond squirming, growling at this lack of escape, and knowing this was his fault because he had attacked with no plan whatsoever and that was rash, he knew better, thinking things through and making a decision based on that was what got him on a better path of life, not simply acting and doing what felt good in the moment.

"Easy there. No more attacking if I let you up?"

"… No."

Upon being released, Castiel pushed himself up, sitting on the floor beside Dean and rotating his shoulders to ease the throb.

"So, what gives? Why are you calling me a liar?"

"Because you are. I saw the news, Dean, I know about Ruby. And now they're saying I helped you kill her and whatever else you've done."

Dean tensed as he spoke, jaw clenched and working itself over before he sagged some, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry you had to get dragged into this, man. Really, I am."

"Then you should have just let me go, or better yet, never have put this on me!"

"It's complicated, okay? I couldn't have those people ask you about me and I couldn't leave you there. But, I swear, I wasn't lying to you, I didn't kill her."

"And I am supposed to take your word?"

"Yes. And, we'll figure this out. I'll find out who really did this, we can get everything straightened out and if you want to go separate ways after this, I won't protest, I won't ever bother you again."

Castiel had more than a handful of reasons to judge the other by this point, to find lies in his words, to find some way to alert others of their whereabouts and face the consequences. And he should have done that, he really should have, he should have seen that sincere expression as fake, never believed it. He was thirty years old, he could not blame being too young to understand what he had done, he could not blame being under the influence like before, he was clean, and he had a good life, he had a stable life, he knew one reaped what they sowed, all of it. In spite of all of that, all he thought he was, as he fiddled with his lip studs, he realised that maybe not so much of what he used to be was really gone, it simply never had much a chance to show itself.

That should be worrisome, terrifying because of doors it opened up again, with the destination unknown, and all Castiel could do was bite his lip, let out a breath through his nose, and stepped right through those doors.

"Where do we start?"


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel would enjoy this road trip more if he had to pay less attention to the authorities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is coming out faster than I thought, considering everything is scattered in my mind, like always;;
> 
> So, I'll look over it a few times after posting it and probably find typos, which sucks. But, that's life, it happens. Also, I had to look up on Google maps how long the drive was for this chapter because I've never actually been outside of California;; I might be soon, if I go to the WPA Convention in Las Vegas, but that's a month away, anything can change from here to now. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :D

Castiel Novak was a smart man, capable of picking things up in record time, if only being given pieces and drawing a reasonable conclusion based on said pieces that was more or less wholly accurate. Even in his worst state, he was considered smart by his teachers and professors, when he showed up. Not that he made the smartest judgement calls, especially not towards the end of that darker period of his life, but academically, he was there and he was good. Give him information and some background and he was ready to go, that was all there was to it.

This, though?

Well, this was a little more complicated for a number of reasons.

Gaze flicking from page to page, all laid out on the table, he used his freed hand to sift through them, forgoing reading them all too throughly for the sake of time and made a note to do so later. Dean was standing by his side, not that they had much choice just yet, probably waiting for him to finish and give his opinion on all of this. And this happened to be not too far from his ballpark and still seems miles away.

"So… Ruby was a dealer. And you somehow managed to tie her to whatever little cartel she belonged to, even though you don't do drugs or deal yourself. In retaliation, the leader killed off Ruby for her sloppiness and managed to frame you. Which is the reason you've been on the run all this time until just now, you were caught, escaped, and here we are."

He may have been way more than waist deep in drugs at one point and yet, never like this.

"That's the gist of it."

Never was he on the bad side of the head of the operation.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous this all sounds? No one is going to believe that, not with all the evidence stacked against you."

"You do."

Castiel glanced over, saw him smile and gave a one shoulder shrug before going back to the papers.

"You kept your word about not murdering me and condemning you without knowing everything seems illogical."

And if he offered a small smile when the man got closer to point out some important facts and they went over everything, well, that was something he would not deny or confirm.

Not long after that, Dean gathered up the papers, took his hand and headed out the door. For a moment, he was worried he might smash another window and in broad daylight this time. Luckily for both of them, he kept walking, taking less crowded streets but who really was going to be out and about at not even eight in the morning? They were of few and Castiel was content to listen to Dean ramble on along the way, not certain what he contribute beside the hums of acknowledgment and short responses of agreement or disagreement and dry comments that always seemed to make Dean laugh. It lightened the mood some, he supposed, and both of them, it seemed, really needed that.

Dean was one of those who laughed with his whole body, he noted, and his eyes would crinkle at the corners and he had no inhibition whatsoever in it. Castiel liked those type of people because it was easier to tell if they were being genuine or if it was just a show for the other. He was never the type to laugh like that unless something was so hysterical to him, he could not help it. It was refreshing then and that was all he got to think about it because they were reaching their destination.

"Target?"

"We need some supplies. And food."

"I gather we are not going to actually buy any of it?"

"Read my mind, Cas."

Thus, Castiel Novak found himself pushing around that trademark red cart around, shoplifting for the first time since he was nineteen and he told himself it was for a better reason this time around, that the lack of money had nothing to do with squandering it away on harmful things. He offered to buy it all, he had a good few hundred in his wallet, but Dean insisted that be for motels or other necessities because he did not want to use the credit cards he had in case they were known to be his, regardless of being stolen.

Stolen credit cards were a last resort thing, usually, more so with how Dean was uncomfortable with the topic.

"How long have you been evading them?"

"Too damn long."

The bitter note in his voice had Castiel leave it be and point to a box of Annie's bunny shaped pretzels and snack mix, claiming they had to be gotten and if he did not take them, then he would buy them and nothing in the world was going to change his mind. He did not love the snack so greatly that nothing really was going to change his mind, most of the time he ended up separating it all and eating only the pretzels, but the seriousness over bunny trail mix, of all possible things, caused Dean to smile and seem to forget his woes about being on the run. Castiel found he much preferred that, a happy person was a better person, and so long as it was not proven to him directly that Dean did any of what the television claimed he did, he thought it wrong to allow it to weigh down on him too much. He knew what that could do to a person and he was not keen on allowing it to occur before him.

Given that technology should be more advanced than when he was a teenager, the man thought it would be significantly harder to roll right out of Target with a cart full of things not paid for. Maybe he was expecting the worse, the alarm going off or someone stopping them, maybe someone even watched the news and recognised the photos of them. None of that happened as they exited the store and kept on walking as far as they could before the lock mechanism refused to let it budge.

"Good a time as any."

Castiel watched as Dean rummaged through the things thrown in and pop open a container of paper clips to straighten one out as much as possible. He knew what he was doing, had done it himself a few times with some locks, but never found himself needing the skill for handcuffs. As Dean removed his own handcuff, he paused at Castiel's and caught his eye.

"Promise you're not going to scream bloody murder now that we're not cuffed together?"

The ATC rolled his eyes and snatched the paper clip from him, fiddling with it until he heard the lock disengage and he was free, plopping the restraints and paper clip into his hand.

"If I really wanted to, I would've done it earlier and I certainly would not be possibly the only one to believe your story. Now, hurry up. And close your mouth, that hardly is attractive."

As he began ripping open packages that would be unneeded and placing the items in the duffel bag or backpack they had snagged as well, he heard the other pocket the handcuffs and huff out a laugh as he asked, "Jesus, there's a lot more to you than I thought, isn't there?"

"Maybe one day you'll get to see all of me, nipple piercings included," was all he had to say and a smile had to be bitten back at the hilarious expression and speechlessness he received in return. Yes, a happy person was a better person, so a happy Dean was a better Dean and Castiel would rather keep it like that.

After everything was packed up and the packaging thrown away, they headed to a small diner at Dean's insistence, sitting in a booth and waiting for their orders to come.

"I don't get why you got the egg whites special instead of real food."

"Eggs whites are real food."

"It's like having diet coke, it's not the real deal."

"… You realise that coke is not exactly the best example for what is 'real?'"

"I can't believe you just did air quotes."

"And I can't believe it's not butter."

Castiel refused to continue with the conversation after that and Dean seemed more preoccupied in the possibility of the place not having actual butter when he tilted his head to the kitchen, eyes directed to the papers he had once again as he waited for his food. When it was set down in front of him, he thanked the waitress and maybe it was everything that had happened in the past day that had him only jabbing at the egg whites with spinach, only a few forkfuls making its way into his mouth and the English muffin and turkey bacon ignored altogether.

"You and Sammy both eat like goddamn birds."

That was not an opening for conversation in the way Castiel took it because Castiel always seemed to miss the concept of that thin line meant to be treaded on lightly, carefully as falling off it could cause a massive disaster. So, of course, his mouth spit out the first thing that popped into his head at the mention of Dean's younger brother.

"Does he know? That you're innocent, I mean. I imagine he already knows you're being charged for all this."

The fact that Dean stopped chewing his food with the gusto of before, the pinch in his brows and how his eyes hardened as he said, "It doesn't matter," should have been a sign for him to shut the fuck up, like right now, but he never seemed to get the picture when it came to enough being enough for the sake of answers.

"I believe it does. He's a lawyer, you said, if he believes you innocent and is trying to prove that, gather evidence, we can't go around doing the same, it'll be tainted–"

"He's not getting involved in this again, so just drop it!"

Castiel did not recoil when Dean brought his fist down on the table, fork and all, like those around him, merely raised an eyebrow before another forkful of his food went in and was swallowed down. Knowing their time here was over, he pulled out some bills, enough to cover the meal and a tip, before sliding out of the booth and taking Dean's hand to get him to follow. He smiled at the waitresses and few patrons that stared warily as they made their way out.

"For being on the run, you're not very discreet. If you want to have a fit, do it in the motel."

His grip on the other's hand relaxed some when he was certain he was not going to jerk away and storm off, though where he might go other than the motel was questionable. As soon as they were inside the room and he shut the door behind him, the ATC leant against it, arms crossed.

"So. How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long was Sam hooked on whatever this Ruby introduced him to?"

Right in his ballpark, like he thought, and he was a little sad to know that it was because he saw how Dean stiffened at the accusation towards his brother, even if his back was towards him, how his fists clenched in the efforts to most likely not shout at him again and even go so far as to hit him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Cas."

And it made him even more sad to know that this denial was likely something his family went through as well, for the sake of not tarnishing people's views on him.

"I think you do. Maybe it wasn't Ruby, but it'd make more sense if it was. That's why it's more believable that you killed her, isn't it, some act of vengeance on your part? And I know that look, when I asked about drugs yesterday, you've had someone close to you use, you've seen them fall. If you are refusing to let Sam be involved as you said, again, then it's safe to say he's the one you pulled out of that, you don't want him back because it reminds you of the past."

As he spoke, he stepped forward, small steps, because even if he said things that were out of line or too brutally honest, he understood the types of physical reactions it could bring out and he would rather not be clocked in the face, it would hurt a lot more for him due to the piercings and no one wanted that. Well beyond what was established as personal space between strangers, Dean finally turned around to face him, eyes narrowed and filled with that familiar fury, the one he saw in his brother's eyes too, too often back then, the one that tried to cover up everything else he was feeling because it was easier that way. Jimmy was a strong, reasonable man that would carry the damn weight of his world and his family's and even close ones without a complaint and insist he was fine and Castiel admired that, he did. He also was aware of how harmful that was; after all, he was the one who had to sink to his knees along with his twin as he sobbed uncontrollably all because he had driven him to that point and drugged up or not, he recalled the alarm and then later the guilt that followed being the cause.

He saw that again in Dean and he had not yet reached that point, though he was close and that, Castiel thought, was something he could help with, to prevent it from exploding out the way it did for Jimmy.

"What the hell do you know about any of this?"

That meant admitting it, relating to this, and Castiel felt he was in a good enough place regarding his past to let it be known, he was not ashamed back then of his lifestyle and he should not be now.

"Because I lived it."

Sure, he felt guilty for how he made his brother and mother feel, what he put them through, but they had forgiven him, they understood, and maybe Dean never had someone else to support him as he tried to support his brother. The mechanic had faltered at that and Castiel called it a step in the right direction, chipping away at some of the wall this very sensitive topic built between them.

"So, I know what that's like and if you don't want Sam involved, fine, I will help and he won't have to do a thing. But I need to know everything."

Most people, he figured, they might back down from this. Might go running scared because of drugs involved and feel out of their depth, they might not even find this worth all the effort, seeing how much they would have to push to get answers from Dean. Castiel was never one to back down from a challenge and be as he may and what people thought of him, he was a fairly empathetic man, more so when it came to things he could relate to. So, he stood there, staring this man down, proximity and slight height difference be damned, not budging an inch when his glare tried to cut through him and not claiming victory when he stepped away to run a hand through his hair and pace.

How could he ever call this a victory?

"Heroin, alright? It was heroin."

This was the farthest thing from victory.

Sucking in a sharp breath at the mention, in the back of his mind, he knew it was that bad, to leave such a mark on Dean and it was still not as easy to process as he would have liked. He had never gotten so involved, never fell quite that low–close, though, with a different poison and he had once considered heroin–though he often questioned how that was possible, and it was a little out of his depth. He told Dean not even five minutes ago that he would help, however, and that was exactly what he planned to do.

"Okay. Heroin. Ruby was his dealer and she worked for who?"

"Some chick named Lilith."

"And that's all you found out that got Ruby killed?"

"No. There was another name, Azazel. I had some dirt on him, connecting him to an op, enough to get both of them locked up. Didn't work out so well."

Letting him continue to pace about, Castiel sat down at the end of the bed, watching him and mulling over what he was told.

"That's why you were looking up businesses? You think he has something there?"

"I do."

"And what would you do if you found him?"

"I'd shoot that son of a bitch between the eyes."

Naturally.

"Alright. How about we not do that and get killed in the process? We can't stroll right in and shoot him in the face, he'll be protected, no doubt, and if you die, there's no saying what he'll do to your loved ones solely to make a point to any thinking of going against him."

Dean was free to be angry all he pleased, letting it all out was good. Acting on it and getting killed for it, not so good, and the ATC could be the voice of reason for the time being, no matter how laughable that was when he tended to say fuck it to anything he found unjust. This certainly fell under that category because he would rather say to hell with the rules, get these two himself and he would not deny he was biased, that it fuelled his decision.

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

What to do was a good question, one that Castiel did not quite have a good answer to, for lack of experience of evading honest to God policemen. Security guards in schools or parks, they were no problem at all, he could do it with his eyes closed.

"I imagine we need to get out of here, until this settles down some, try to get our hands on something that exposes them and preferably not get caught or shot."

Dean made his way to his bed and fell back on it, hands over his face as he sighed and mumbled something.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry. For running into you, I should've been more careful, moved earlier, you wouldn't be here if I did."

"You said you didn't want the police to question me, it's natural to try and protect yourself."

"Yeah, except I wasn't being chased down by cops."

It did not take long to connect the dots and it did not seem like Dean wanted to say it himself. Maybe it made it too real to say it himself, maybe he was angry, there were plenty of maybe's that Castiel simply took it upon himself to say it.

"They were following you, trying to finish you off and it'd just look like an escape gone wrong."

What that meant for Castiel that Dean honestly, in that moment, thought it safer to handcuff them together so he would have no choice but to follow rather than leave him there to be stopped and questioned by the people following him, he pushed to the back of his mind. The facts were that he was now in this, he had one shot to clear Dean's name and his own because chances were if they failed, they were either caught or dead, and they both had baggage to deal with along the way.

Of course, then, what the ATC did was stand up, grab the duffle bag he chose to carry and tossed the backpack to Dean.

"Might as well get started. First, you need to show me how to hot wire a car and we'll decide where to go from there."

It was, not shockingly, something Castiel picked up on quickly.

The next two days kind of blurred together for Castiel, a routine of driving, motels, and some breaks in between for a sense of normalcy in quiet, out of the way diners or huddled in the back rows of computers at libraries, never for too long to be safe and Dean reassuring that when they got where they needed to be, everything would be smooth sailing.

Out of all places to go, Castiel was not entirely expecting Lawrence, Kansas to be their final stop. Only when the other revealed that this was his hometown and his business was here did it make some sense, not enough to him personally to stop here. Reasonably, if this was where he lived before all of this happened to him, before he dropped everything and headed to California, the local police would be on high alert. When he gave his theory to Dean, he has dismissed it, saying that they covered their tracks well enough that they would have no idea they were even here.

"You said we needed info, so we'll get it here. We're meeting up with someone, she's real good at getting into places and uncovering things people try and hide."

"And that required a drive back home?"

"Kind of. I also wanted to make sure the business was still going strong and my baby is in good hands."

His baby?

"I didn't know you had a child."

Did that mean he had a girlfriend or wife as well? Maybe a boyfriend, since he heard that Kansas was still against same-sex marriage or refused to acknowledge it, something stupid like that. If Castiel had an ounce of shame in his body, he might feel a little for holding Dean's hand so often, but pegged it friendly enough. It was not like they had ever talked boundaries and Dean was the one who took his hand the first time around. He did it this time, as well, claiming that he did not want Castiel to wander and get lost because he sure as hell was not going to comfort him when he started crying like a little baby lost in the grocery store.

He was certain that was a joke and had given a very dry, very unenthusiastic laugh before making a sharp turn and narrowly avoiding smacking into a parking meter.

Dean was not so lucky.

That kept him from making any more cheeky comments and soon, he found himself across the street from a business that, admittedly, looked a lot more friendly than one of the many Jiffy Lubes he came across.

Winchester Auto Repair.

Straight to the point, Castiel expected nothing less.

"There she is."

Following where his finger pointed, the ATC found himself gazing upon a clearly well taken care of, sleek black car.

Oh. That made more sense.

"You drive an Impala. Or, drove before this."

"Yeah. Right now, Jo's in charge of maintenance."

Whilst the car was impressive in many regards, Castiel found himself observing Dean more than anything else, the expression he probably had no idea he was making and that was for the best, he did not seem to be one to like exposing what he thought or felt. It was with all that in mind, along with the squeeze to his hand the man did not notice doing, that he quietly mentioned needing to go check into a motel and coaxed him into walking away.

It must be hard to see what was his life before this all blew up in his face and be so close without the ability to step back into what was his routine, Castiel saw no more reason to allow Dean to torture himself that way.

Thankfully, Dean did not try anything in the time they spent at the motel, a trip to the store where Castiel was going to buy something because, "We have stolen enough as it is, Dean, and I will pay for things in your hometown," and the stop the made for a very late lunch/kind of early dinner. The mechanic was obviously confused as to why they had gone to a CVS of all possible places for him to buy what he wanted and why Castiel shooed him off to go find something he liked, staying in the aisles of lotions. He had waited until he left before going two aisles down and grabbing the still so familiar box and paying for it before he came back.

It was stupid, being all discreet like this was some major secret because it was going to be obvious in a few hours. Then again, Dean had no idea and his reaction was something to look forward to, he enjoyed seeing what new thing managed to render him speechless and the smile and laughter that followed, it was nice.

So, he got Dean his can of buttercrunch toffee, they went back to their motel, and he now stood in the crummy little bathroom with two bottles on the sink and a razor in hand, grip tightening and relaxing before he let out a slow, deep breath.

Might as well get started.

For not having done this in about nine or so years, give or take, he supposed it was muscle memory or some sort of bodily wonder that had him going through the motions so easily. It probably helped that although he had grown some since then, it was not like puberty all over, where he shot up and ached when it came so suddenly, not anywhere near enough. The only thing that annoyed him was this motel's shower head felt like someone was lightly peeing on him, the pressure just sucked, and he had to endure it until he saw all of the excess fade away.

The towel was stained and so was the shower, his clothes as he dressed were not and he counted that as a win. Bottles and razor tossed away, Castiel ran his hand through his damp hair, pleased to have no smears of the dye on his fingers and deeming himself fit to step outside.

"What took you so long, I–"

That was around the reaction he expected, wide eyes and gaping, and he went by to take one of his snacks to pop in his mouth.

"I told you it's not attractive to have your mouth like that."

"Your hair is blue."

"And you see with your eyes."

Castiel grinned at the face Dean made and it was worth it to hide it away before, to have this reaction.

"Any reason you dyed and hacked at your hair?"

"Mm… this used to be normal for me, when I was younger. I wasn't the one out of the two of us who had the clean haircut, all neatly combed and acceptable appearance overall. That's who I had to become after everything and I'd honestly rather have that as far away as possible right now, it's fucking stifling. This, it just helps me separate that and I think that helps not just me right now."

In the past days, Castiel had spoken more about his family, mentioned Jimmy and Amelia, their daughter, his mother. The detail that he was his twin did not seem of too much relevance, they were not heading to Pontiac, it was not in their plan, and chances were if this was really that big a deal, he would have already been checked on and dismissed as a suspect or whatever bullshit they tried to pull. Going back to how he used to look was cathartic in some ways and in others, it would help distinguish them easier, that had to help Jimmy out, right? They could not be mistaken at a glance, that would keep Jimmy and his family safe, keep them from being harassed or anything.

"… I'm sure your family is safe, Cas. You haven't got them involved and that's all that matters, trust me."

Castiel gave a weak smile at that, not liking the implications of his tone, like he knew what happened when family was involved, the same way he sounded when he mentioned that he had to take him along instead of leave him to be questioned.

"I'm going to get a water. Do you want anything?"

That was enough of all this angst.

"Coke. Real coke, not diet."

"No coke is real."

That banter lightened the mood little, though it was better than nothing, and Castiel made his way to the vending machine, feeding in the bills and coins and smiling at a younger female that seemed a bit too loose limbed and giggly to be naturally like that. These motels they chose always had a handful of people like that and Castiel wanted to help them, lacking the time and currently the money to do so. Best not to think about it and go back to the room, he had his bottle of water and another of coke.

He should have stayed out there.

"… I know my brother, he is a good man and is not capable of doing any of the violent and sick things people are accusing him of."

He should have stayed in his house that day.

"And, Mr. Novak, do you plan to do anything to dispel these claims?"

He should have made Queen eat the fucking dry food.

"I'm going to do everything I can to prove this wrong, I know he's innocent and I'll be damned if I don't prove it."

He should sit the fuck down because he could not breathe and he swore the room was spinning.

"Castiel, I know you're running, but we'll fix this, okay?"

No, there was no way he could fix this, not this. He knew it was not Jimmy's fault, he had no fucking clue what the fuck he just did, stupid shitty reporters probably hounded him to get some sort of statement or comment and Jimmy had no idea, he probably just wanted them off his back, he always had a short temper with things like this, and he had no fucking clue, did not know the background to this all, did not know who was involved, what that could mean and maybe he was jumping to conclusions based solely on Dean's tone and the ominous hidden meaning and it could all be a big overdramatic, over-exaggerated response but he still felt his heart drop into his stomach, he still felt all his air punch out of him and he still just saw his brother on that crappy motel television screen and what if it was all real, his leap of a conclusion was right?

"Oh God."

What if Jimmy was in danger now?


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has one of two choices and no matter which he chooses, someone loses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came out to be a lot longer than I expected;; The initial idea for the chapter was just a few sentence fragments and it exploded into all of this. I had to look some things up, so if there are any errors, feel free to point them out.
> 
> I'm not sure if there are anymore notes to point out. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :D

"Cas, hey, slow down!"

Have to get to Jimmy, have to keep him safe, keep Amelia and Claire safe, get them somewhere safe, not so known like their home, that would broadcast soon elsewhere, if it had not already and Castiel could feel his heart pounding, like it lodged itself in his throat and, belatedly, amongst the shuffling of him stuffing his extra set out clothes in the duffle bag, he realised the extra noise was coming from him, gasps of breath, shaky and his hands were shaking, too.

Fuck, they had to stop shaking or he was never going to be able to break into a car, get it started and go to them.

"Cas!"

Suddenly, his world was spinning and he was facing Dean, he had his hand on his shoulder and Castiel did not think, he just knew this was slowing him down and he knocked his hand away.

"I need to go to them now, Dean."

"No, you need to stay here."

That was all he needed to hear, the other was not coming with him and that was fine, that was perfectly fine, he had his own concerns, they could part ways. They would have, too, if Dean was not standing in his way, blocking the only entrance and exit from the motel.

"Get out of my way."

"Listen, I know you're worried–"

Get out of his way.

"I am more than worried, Dean!"

"I know, I get it–"

Get out of his fucking way.

"No, I don't think you do. I owe them _my life,_ my whole goddamn life that I would have stupidly ended if they didn't intervene. Jesus, Claire is only fucking _seven._ They're good people, they go to church, they donate to the less fortunate, they even go out every fucking Thanksgiving and give their food out to those who couldn't make it to shelters instead of eating it themselves and they don't deserve anything but good. _I did this, Dean._ I need to make sure they are safe."

Any time he tried to get closer, to shove him out of the way, Dean remained an immovable force, instead shoving Castiel back and he was about to lose it, just punch the man in the face, wrap his hands around his neck and do it properly this time, quick and easy, it would be a just action, righteous, because anything he had to do to get to his family, anyone and anything he had to tear down and any consequences he faced were trivial.

If he had to take out Dean Winchester to get to them, then fuck his promise, he would do it.

And he was gearing up to, letting the duffle strap slide off his shoulder and it fell to the floor with a thump. Just let it all go, just do not feel, do not think about the other as who he was, just an obstacle, a task, just do not feel, just like it was before. Granted, he had drugs circulating his system practically 24/7 then to skew his moral compass and dissipate any doubts and what he did, his task, was the complete opposite of harming–he actually quite dislike fighting, contrary to what most assumed from his appearance–but will alone would have to do.

"If you go to them, you'll get them killed."

That certainly made him feel.

"What?"

"Right now, Jimmy's made it clear he wants to help, but how much can he? You told me before, he's got a good job, but not great enough to hire anyone who can uncover dirt on Lilith or Azazel. If you go now, and someone is keeping tabs on him, at a distance, that's practically painting a target on his back. He's going to want to keep you safe, keep you hidden and you can bet your ass they'll question him then about where you are."

It sounded… reasonable.

It would sound a lot more reasonable if he had not just seen his twin on the news, swearing he was going to do everything he could to help and prove him innocent, in that ill-fitted suit and trench coat he knew the other wore to work and that he swore up and down that he would one day swipe and fix to actually fit properly even if the only time he did take the trench coat, he ended up simply wearing it himself. It would sound a lot more reasonable if he had less experience knowing how serious Jimmy took something when he swore or promised, if it was not reflected in his own values, especially when it came to protecting family.

So, he pleaded one last time, "Dean, you do not know him, he's not going to stop, I need to get to him," and again, Dean said the same thing, he was going to dig them in deeper than they could deal with, except this time, after that, he paused, thinking something over with a considerable amount of thought, and let out a sigh, words as clear as a bell even with how quiet he spoke.

"I ever tell you about my dad?"

Regardless if Castiel had anything to say, he let out a sharp breath and shook his head, pressing on, "Guess it doesn't much matter now, does it? He's dead, for about two years now," Castiel should say sorry for his loss, but it seemed urgent for Dean to get this out, like he might lose whatever was giving him the ability to say those words if anything interrupted him, "Sammy was finally clean and I wanted to get back at whatever son of a bitch got him hooked in the first place. I started alone, at first, but I needed help and the first person I turned to was my dad. Sure, I had some people owe me and I asked them to do things, but it was never like with my dad, not so… front line. But my dad was like this unstoppable force, I thought, we could do it together. So, we worked side by side and one day, we caught a lead and like an idiot, I let him go on alone, tossed him the keys to the Impala myself."

Castiel knew where this was going already, he did not want to believe it and he would rather go without hearing it, if he were honest. How often Dean let things off his chest, what it meant that he was telling him, of all possible people, and the clearly still raw pain in his voice kept him quiet, still, just watching the other.

"No surprise, I got a call not long after. Eighteen wheeler crashed right into him, he wasn't going to make it, so I should go say my goodbyes. Who the fuck tells you that over the phone? I went, though, and all I could think was, 'It's my fault.' If I had never dragged him in, he wouldn't have died. When I called Sam to tell him everything, he said that I was feeling guilty, that I was just thinking too much into it."

Stop. Castiel wanted him to stop, for both their sakes. His voice cracked in certain spots and he kept blinking, eyes directed at something fascinating on the floor and Castiel could not take it, he had no idea what he should do, no idea what he might be able to say after this, what he could say that was right, no idea beyond the fact that this so very wrong and there was nothing he could do.

"Except, it was my fault. One of the nurses came by to give me a note, someone left it at the front desk for me. Don't know which one of them it was from, but it was them, and it was just a fucking game to them, like my dad was just another piece and they got rid of him to show me they could do it, what would happen if I made a move. So, I've been careful since then, haven't let anyone know what I've been doing, haven't let anyone in on it. Until I crashed into you."

Until… oh.

It all made much more sense now. The refusal to let him go, the insistence on keeping them together with handcuffs, why he asked if he was not going to leave, why he was so reluctant to leave him alone at CVS, why he never let him out of his sight at all before and since then, why he would always hold his hand even when it was impossible to get lost or stray as he said he might. If he had never gotten another involved since his father, which was understandable, his being there now, the choice Dean made to take him away from what he knew for his safety because he was well aware of the extents they could go to, Castiel could only imagine what that must be like.

And Castiel was pushing to do the exact same thing, to go to his family and get them involved as directly as possible, in his eyes, and leave him in the process when he had done what he did in the first place to keep him close, to be able to make sure nothing happened to him.

Dean thought they would all die and it would be on his hands.

"You can't go, Cas."

Castiel promised Dean he would help him. Dean knew better than him what could happen if he went to his brother. They could figure this out together much faster if Castiel stayed here, then Jimmy would need to prove nothing, he would be safe. The other said they were meeting someone who could find information, information that was otherwise near impossible to get. And Castiel had to think things through and make a decision based on that, he promised. Dean was watching him, waiting for some kind of answer, and all Castiel could do is reach out and take the hand that he had shoved away earlier and give it a squeeze.

"Okay."

If it was strange that as they went to bed, facing each other and arms sticking out from the covers, hands not too far from each other, well, no one would know but them, so it was more than okay.

They started off the next day rather early. Or, early by other people's standards, he supposed, since he was used to waking up and heading at any given point in the day, courtesy of his job. As he ran his hands through his hair, easing how mussed up it was and giving it some sense of style, he wondered what would happen to his job once this all cleared up. Somehow, jumping right back in did not seem like an option and it was not because he would not want to. Maybe it would be all awkward at first, greetings and mentions of thank God he was alright with tight smiles and feigned joy to see him back, then it would dwindle down and be downright uneasiness with everyone until finally, he would be called in and told sorry, too many people on the job, budget cuts, he had to go but it was great having him working with them.

He was thinking too much into it, he made himself believe, and went on with his morning routine.

When they were both ready, they left the motel and, as he expected, Dean took his hand and led the way to a different little diner where they were to meet this mysterious female Castiel knew nothing about besides the fact that she was good with computers. It was a bit adorable, if Castiel thought about it, how Dean went about holding his hand. The mechanic loved to use his hands when speaking, giving life to his words in more ways than one, and he surmised that to be part of the reason he loved working on cars, the hands on aspect of it all. When they would walk and talk, as it were, he would still use his hands, though his left was usually the one doing more of the gesturing and flapping about. His right would stay more firmly at his side, occasionally brushing against his left and progressively the touches lingered more and more until their pinkies hooked together, eventually leading to proper hand holding.

Back when they first met–five days ago, actually thinking about it–Dean had simply taken his hand, needing to hide the chain that kept them together and doing so until the handcuffs came off. After that, once they were removed, it seemed like the man had suddenly lost all that confidence to just grab at his hand. Thus, the process of hand holding.

Adorable, yes.

Castiel said nothing to him because he would hate to embarrass him if he had no idea that he did that and then actively tried not to do it, he rather enjoyed it.

For now, they let go of each other's hand as they entered the diner and were seated, menus in hand and a chipper waitress asking, "What can I get you started with to drink?"

"Coffee, black."

"Black tea, please."

It was always the same order and Dean always made the same face, like he could not believe that anyone in the world would take tea over coffee this early in the morning and nothing Castiel would say could change his mind, the most he relented was that honey was alright, but it could not beat syrup when it came to something like pancakes.

Castiel accepted the compromise.

"So, are we just supposed to hang around here and wait?"

"She won't be long now."

Sure enough, they had ordered their food–Dean seemed thrilled about the pig in a poke special, Castiel was happy with a fruit salad, despite the other's protest to try the special with him–and about ten minutes in, Dean suddenly cut off mid-sentence and stood up. Azures followed him all the way to the entrance where he embraced someone, a female he gathered from the arms wrapping around him. Such was true when they parted and he saw the petite redhead coming over with Dean, sliding in first and her eyes roamed over his face before focusing on his hair, no unease or shock, just a smile.

"Nice hair."

Castiel liked her already.

"Nice shirt."

It had a cat on it and that was all Castiel needed to like it.

"Everything's nice, candy all around. Later. Charlie, Cas. Cas, Charlie," They shook hands before Dean continued, "Now, time's short, you said you needed this info before you could do anything." The papers were taken out and set on the table, crinkled some from how they were packed in. As the redhead took it before pulling out her laptop, their food arrived and Castiel thanked the waitress on their behalf, seeing as the other two were occupied and requested another fork.

"I'll figure this out in no time, your sacrifice won't be in vain. Although, can't really say it's much of a sacrifice if you picked this guy up along the way," Castiel pretended to be intent on checking none of the fruit was mushy and not smile at all when Charlie leant closer to Dean and said in a very poor attempt of a stage whisper, "He seems helpful. And dreamy."

Castiel did look, however, and feign ignorance to what happened when Dean laughed.

"Fruit? I don't know if you've eaten with how early Dean asked you here and his table manners obviously aren't the best."

Castiel ignored the "Hey!" of indignation and held out the extra fork he asked for, glad to see she took it and used it to pop a piece of apple in her mouth. She thanked him, looked at Dean and mouthed exaggeratedly "keep him," before going back to work.

In between all the work and eating breakfast, they talked amongst each other. Which ended up being mostly Charlie recounting her experience with Dean and larping, with it sometimes being difficult to get through a story because either she would be laughing far too much to continue with her sentence or Dean would butt in and insist that was not how it happened. Despite how normal this all seemed, like three people getting together and chatting, Castiel watched Dean slowly get more tense, gaze darting out the window whenever someone would walk by or a car would turn the corner and then it would go up to the clock and, without fail, the question, "Have you found anything yet?" would follow.

He was worried about what might happen.

Castiel did not feel pity for the man; somehow, that seemed insulting and Dean would have no problem saying it was, too. He was concerned, yes, on how much it affected him, how he has not yet forgiven himself, how it made him paranoid enough to push everyone away, but he did not pity. Instead, he rummaged through his pockets before pausing and looking at Dean.

"Dean. My wallet is gone, we need to go find it."

"It can't wait?"

"No. It has my license, my cards, everything."

"Alright… looks like we got to go, kiddo."

"Go, go. I'll head back, too, and call if I get anything solid."

Once Charlie packed everything up, Dean paid this time around, and they were outside the diner. She gave the other another hug and then, with no qualms about it at all, hugged him. He could go with it, arms wrapping around her and patting her back when she spoke up quietly.

"Take care of him."

To give a verbal response defeated the point of the apparent secrecy of what she was asking for, so he nodded and she stepped back, waving.

"Peace out, bitches."

Castiel watched her until she got in her car and left, Dean was content to do the same.

"I like Charlie."

"She likes you, too, buddy. Now, let's go back to the motel, maybe you left it there."

Dean took his hand this time without any of what led up to it and squeezed, with a small smile on his face as they walked down the street.

Castiel took the "thank you" as it was.

They arrived back quickly enough and Dean declared he was going to shower, then he would help Castiel look for his wallet. As soon as the door closed, the ATC reached into his jacket's pocket and took out his wallet, turning it over a few times to examine before setting it on the nightstand, specifically angling it so it leant against the lamp and did its best to blend in.

Good enough.

As he heard the shower run, he sat on his bed and watched television, understanding this Dr. Sexy a little more with what he was told about the show. Reruns were always out of order, though, and sometimes he got confused if it was skipping a few episodes ahead or back-pedalling some. He knew that was Dr. Piccolo on screen, then Dr. Palmer–Dr. Sexy himself–though he could not put a name to the brunette and he narrowed his eyes at the screen as she spoke.

He did not trust her, she was up to something.

So consumed by trying to figure out what this woman was trying to do, he almost missed the knocks on the door. They were not expecting anyone. He muted the television and made his way over, carefully peeking passed the curtain and sighing in relief when it was only the man at the head of the desk when they checked in. Opening the door, he tried to smile, he did, but the guy had taken one look at both of them when they walked in to get a room and had such a lecherous grin, with no attempt at all to hide it. Even now, he looked him up and down, gazing far too long in certain areas before Castiel finally snapped.

"Yes, can I help you?"

Maybe not the best thing to say, he saw him about ready to respond no doubt inappropriately when he glared at him, frowning and daring him to say a word out of line again. That seemed to make him falter and clear his throat, looking down at the envelope Castiel now noticed him holding.

"Is someone named… _Cas-teel,_ here with you? Because you only paid for two people, if you want to have another–"

Castiel snatched it out of his hand before he could finish speaking.

"It's mine. Just a nickname. Who left it?"

Who found them?

"I don't know."

"How the hell do you not know?"

The ATC was aware that sounding so demanding, even leaving the door wide open and stepping out of the room to stare down the other, right into those beady little eyes, was not the best idea. But, really, this was tame, he thought, compared to the storm brewing up inside of him, the panic that wanted to rise up relentlessly. The man held up his hands to try and pacify him, though he brushed his hands along his chest in doing so, being as close as they were, and he reacted, well, rather negatively.

Because the next thing this stubby little man knew, he was grabbed and pressed against the wall, faced smushed against the dirty wall and arms twisted to the point where he thought they were both going to snap clean off, an alarming amount of weight pressed against him and not in the fun way as his guest leant in, voice eerily even and far too serene for what he was doing.

"I'll ask only one more time. _Who left it?"_

Jesus Christ almighty, he was going to piss his pants and die in a puddle of his own pee.

"I-I told you, I don't know. I left to the back and when I came back, there it was. All the envelope says on the outside is who it's for and what room number."

He cried out when the pressure increased on his arms, the man not giving two shits about it and even telling him in that same levelled tone, "Cease your whining, I am thinking and they won't break unless I want them to," before finally easing up and releasing him, claiming, "You may go now," and the hell if he did not run off then and there, not looking back after catching a glance of that face, not looking like he broke a sweat or had a lick of remorse for what he did.

Geez, what a freak.

Castiel shut the door with his foot, calming down some from his outburst and flipping the envelope over, again and again, each time finding no clues as to where it came from or who sent it. He opened it up from the side and let the contents fall into his hand, all that greeted him were photographs. And all that was needed to strike a fear like no other in his heart were those photographs.

They were of his family.

Claire, out in the playground, playing four square with her friends.

Amelia, coming out of the store with grocery bags.

Jimmy, walking into a coffee shop with his work buddies.

The worst was the one of all three of them, at the dinner table, holding hands and praying, because it looked like it was shot right outside the window.

He kept looking from one photograph to another, eyes wide and he knew air was coming in, no matter how much it felt like it was not, though it might as well have stopped altogether when he flipped the last picture over.

 _Do you think God will protect them, angel? I sure don't. Hope you said goodbye your last visit home._ ♡

Dean was wrong.

Dean was so wrong, they were going after them anyway, they were going to kill them and Castiel had stupidly stayed put, he left them there like sitting ducks, he could have been in Pontiac by now, getting them somewhere safe. Everything went by in a blur from there, from packing the duffle bag to hastily writing a note to Dean, to finding a car he could take and driving off much faster than was the recommended safe limit.

In his haste, he had left the pictures scattered on his bed, with a lone little note in plain view on the nightstand, just five little words written.

_Sorry. I'll be safe. Promise._

Sadly, both being safe and not being pulled over by the police meant dialling down his speed to whatever limit was posted. Not to mention he was not one to ever do long distance drives; he was sort of into the whole aviation deal, if that was not obvious from his job and private pilot license, flying in planes came naturally to him. That meant he was not entirely certain of a good estimate to reach Pontiac, but if he went nonstop, it was bound to be before two, he concluded. Claire got out at 2:36, that would give him enough time, she would be safe in school, she had a teacher to watch over her and her friends all around her, they would not dare do anything.

Right?

Yes, of course, it would be stupid otherwise.

And Amelia, she had some sort of book club, that must have been why she was getting groceries, to have snacks for everyone and she would be surrounded by people, too. Jimmy would still be at work, in a building, which was safe, they would all be safe and it would all be okay, he could get to them, keep them safe, he had not fucked up too much, it could still be fixed.

That mantra was what kept him going all those hours in this teeny tiny, confining, slow as hell car.

Normally, the sign of Welcome to Pontiac would be thrilling, he would recall many a time he would slip out, go all the way to it, light up a cigarette or a blunt and sit against it, wondering if he would ever leave his hometown or if he was doomed to stay there forever.

Right now, he wanted to ram the damn sign just to let off some steam. But, that would ruin the car and he needed it to make his way around, sad as the junker was. It was short notice, the only one around, and it was not like he was going to keep it, he abandoned it once close enough to walk around. His jacket had been swapped for a hoodie, for the use of the hood, of course, because he never expected to actually come to Pontiac. Some people he knew growing up still were around and walking around with the risk of being notice–because who could really forget Castiel of the past, with the tips of his hair dyed blue and facial piercings?–was not something he liked in particular.

Reaching a street that was only scarcely walked on, he made his way over to the pay phone, grimacing as he picked it up and feeding in the coins before punching in the number he knew by heart with the least touching as possible. After a few rings, he heard someone pick up, recite the greeting he knew was mandatory and cleared his throat.

"Hi. May I speak to Jimmy Novak, please?"

He hoped his voice would not crack at any one point because of forcing his pitch up and trying to give some type of accent to his words that he had to think through to seem like he was just some random guy, not family, knowing that he was decently known at his brother's work and his voice was distinctive, somewhat deeper and rougher than Jimmy's.

"Mr. Novak is busy right now."

"Oh. Uhm, s-sorry. Ah, could–could I leave a message?"

"Yes."

"Please tell him that he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it."

"Okay. I'll send it over right now."

"Thank you so much. Have a good day."

Hanging up, he wiped his hands on his jeans, making a note to wash his hands when he was near a sink and for now heading off to the spot he hoped Jimmy would be. Maybe it was something that came from being twins, that he knew the other would be there, that he would understand exactly what he meant because he always understood what he meant, ever since they were babies and all they could do was babble at each other.

In any case, it was extraordinarily helpful.

It was somewhat of a risk, coming to Humiston-Riverside Park, but it was usually populated, he figured it would be safe, to a degree. He first went and washed his hands, feeling remarkably better and cleaner before finding some inconspicuous spot to sit at and wait.

And he waited.

And waited.

And when he thought this was a lost cause, he saw that damned tan trench coat fluttering madly as Jimmy jogged into view, looking like he had ran all the way here without much thought to anything else with how the coat was sliding off one shoulder and suit collar was popped out some, that blue tie Castiel remembered giving to him as a gift skewed and flipped backwards. He knew this was a very serious situation and he still snorted in amusement at how everyone that stared at him likely thought he was a madman with how he looked around frantically, speed walking and searching. Castiel decided to help him out by grabbing a small rock nearby him and chucking it in his direction. It smacked against his shoe and was enough to make him look down, baffled at it, before looking back up at where Castiel was now standing and offering a little wave.

He had never seen his brother run quite so fast, nor had he knocked the breath out of him like this from a hug in some time.

"Jesus, Cas, you're here."

"I thought you weren't supposed to use that name in vain or something?"

"Shut up and let me hug you."

The unspoken, "let me know you're real, that you're here," was understood and he was happy to linger in the embrace a little longer. When Jimmy let go, he got a proper look at his brother and raised a brow.

"Life on the run boring you?"

"You could say that."

That was all Jimmy had to comment about his hair and then they moved on to much more important topics.

"Cas, why are you here? I'm relieved, I'm damn happy to see you, but is it safe for you? You weren't followed or threatened or anything?"

Jimmy was still only worried about him and Castiel could just fucking cry, he even let out a broken laugh that concerned his brother and had him grab his arm.

"What's wrong? What's happened, brother?"

He knew the levels of concerns they had for one another, based on tone and words used and that was just about hitting the ceiling in concern, so he shook his head and patted his hand.

"Just… we need to get out of here, okay? We need to get Amelia and Claire and find someplace safe."

Perhaps it was his own tone, or the mention of his family, that had Jimmy straighten up further and search his eyes for something more, more than he was letting on. And he was so damn good at it, they both were when it came to one another, that whatever he found caused him to gape in horror, grip tightening on his arm.

"Oh my God."

"Exactly what I said. Come on."

They both had to refrain from outright sprinting across to the parking lot and Castiel was confused when he did not see any familiar car.

"Where's your car?"

"It wouldn't start this morning, I don't know what's wrong with it. I had to run all the way here."

At least he was right about that.

That did pose a problem, though, one that Castiel solved by motioning him to follow until he got to a more secluded area and examined the cars, picking the one he thought would be least missed and did as he had once thought was so reckless.

He smashed the window open with his elbow, Jimmy jumped and stared at him as though he had done some heinous act and told him he liked the thrill.

_"Cas! What the hell."_

"Yes, I know. 'Thou shalt not steal,' horrible sin, I am going to hell and will burn for eternity, I have to repent, will you just get in?"

His immortal soul could wait, Claire and Amelia could not.

Jimmy was still iffy about it all the way, as he got in, as Castiel hot wired the car, as they drove off and he instructed him to put down the passenger side window to even it out and he finally could not hold back.

"Who taught you how to hot wire a car? You've never stolen. Or, at least nothing like a car. Not since back then."

Not the best thing to say, to remind him of now, knuckles going white as he held the steering wheel tighter than it needed because yes, he knew he stole before, he stole a lot, he even stole from his family when he was increasingly desperate for money and eventually turned to something much worse, so fucking sue him. Jimmy noticed the change immediately and twiddled his thumbs.

"I'm not–I don't–damn it, I didn't mean it that way, you know I don't. Just… be careful, okay? I know you can't… can't exactly follow all the rules right now, it's dangerous for you, and I understand. I just want you to be safe. At least use a rock or something next time, your clothes suck, I wouldn't be surprised if a leaf could cut through it."

The seriousness level went down about a notch at the end and Castiel scoffed.

"You're one to talk about quality of clothes, you cannot even shop for proper fitting clothes."

That was the end of that brotherly heart-to-heart and it was good timing, as well, as they pulled up to Claire's school and after a scan of the area, Jimmy exited the car and entered the school. Castiel waited in the car, knowing better than to go inside because, dyed hair or not, he would be recognisable and that was not what they needed right now. Antsy, he drummed his fingers against the wheel, checked his watch about every other second, and could sing Hallelujah when Jimmy came out, Claire holding his hand and positively beaming.

He had to reach over and unlock the back door, still twisted around when he helped bring in her roller backpack and smiled when she followed.

"Uncle Cas!"

"Hello, princess."

Like just about everyone, she zoned in on his hair, squealing in surprise, or joy, something that made him smile.

"Your hair is blue!"

"It is, yes."

"Can I touch it?"

It required him to lean over more, seatbelt digging in, but her peals of joy were worth it and he was able to move back after and off they went, Claire chatting the whole way.

"Daddy, Uncle Cas changed his hair. Can your hair do that, too? And mommy's?"

"Well, yes, but–"

"Can my hair do that?"

"Yes, but Claire, honey–"

"I want mine blue, too, like Uncle Cas!"

Castiel was firmly pressing his lips together, eyes on the road, totally not aware of the stricken expression on his brother's face, who was not certain how to tell his daughter that she was too young to dye her hair when she looked so hopeful and determined, followed by the accusatory glare in his direction.

When they all got through this, the ATC thought of the perfect birthday present for her.

Castiel was grateful that Claire's school was not far from their house, where Amelia would no doubt be. He pulled up to the driveway, right behind the Lincoln MKS that was, according to his brother, nonfunctional. Nothing looked like it was wrong, but Castiel was not an expert in cars, not like Dean was.

Dean…

He hoped he was okay.

Shaking off the thought for now, he put the car in park and ushered them all out, heading to the front door and Castiel vigilantly stood watch in that short time until all three could get inside and the door was shut.

"Amelia? Honey, where are you?"

"In the kitchen!"

All of them went, first Claire who got a hug and a kiss, then Jimmy, who received the same.

"Aren't you still supposed to be at work? I was supposed to pick up Claire… in ten minutes."

"About that…"

Castiel took that as his cue to walk in, seeing Amelia go from confused, to even more confused, to plain shocked as he offered a small smile.

"Hello, Amelia."

"Castiel…"

She went around her husband to get to him, still looking shocked until she finally pulled him into a hug, laughing shakily.

"Oh, I was so worried about you when I heard the news."

"I'm quite alright, I assure you. Though, I've had enough of motel showers to last me a lifetime."

They parted, Jimmy came up to them, and suddenly the sombreness level went right back up.

"Amelia, we have to get out of here. I'll help Claire pack up, Cas will go with you, and then we have to leave. Just grab what we need, we'll deal with the rest and I'll explain later. You have to trust me."

Amelia wanted to ask more, know what was going on and now, yet stayed quiet due to the urgency in his voice and nodded, leading Castiel to their room and heading to the closet where she pulled out a suitcase. Castiel got started on Jimmy's clothes, everything done so methodically and swiftly that little was said in between, just questions of whether this was needed or not and when the latches were snapped shut, the man set his hand on Amelia's.

"You'll all be safe, I promise."

"What about you?"

Of course that was what she would ask.

"I have muddled through so far."

"The news said you were with someone… Dean?"

"Yes, I was. I left him to come here."

"Did you escape?"

"Not so much. He is a good man, he is simply… facing demons of the past. I am rather fond of him and I want to help him."

"You've only known him a few days, Castiel. Are you certain?"

"As certain as you were about me."

That satisfied her and she nodded, both of them heading out of the room and down the small hallway, ready to call out and ask if Jimmy was ready to leave.

What Castiel was not expecting was something hard slam into his face at the end of the hallway, sending him stumbling back and tripping over his legs, landing flat on his back as Amelia let out a scream.

"Amelia… b-bathroom!"

The man tried to push himself back up, hoping his words were comprehensible, but another burst of pain came and Castiel realised this time it was a fist and now there was a heavy weight on him–a body–with a growing pressure around his throat and air becoming more difficult to take in and all he could do was claw at the hands, legs kicking futilely.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was going to die.

_You shouldn't be so close when trying to choke the life out of someone._

That recollection of his own attack on Dean resurfaced and his hands mimicked the movements, wedging in between his attacker's arms, gripping the sides of his head, and blunt thumbnails stabbing into his eyes until the man could no longer hold his grip and Castiel bashed their heads together to get the upper hand. He managed to flip them over and slam the other's head against the floor before he scrambled back up, not sparing a second in bringing his boot clad foot down without mercy, not flinching at the feel or the scream it tore out, though perhaps it was a kindness that he kicked him in the face, at least he blacked out.

Panting, he reached up and felt his face. Nothing felt broken, it just really throbbed and his cheek ached more when he touched it and his lip was tender. He tasted blood, but none of his piercings tore out or anything, which was good, it could have been much worse.

"Stay inside, Amelia. I'm going to check no one else is here."

They were already making their move, Castiel was barely on time, if this could count as on time. He made his way back to the living room, then the kitchen, then double checked the hallway to the door before rounding back to the living room to get to the other hallway to give an all clear. The moment he realised it was not all clear was when he stepped into the living room and was met with a gun, held by a man blocking the way to the hallway. Castiel never saw this man before in his life, if he could even call him a man, he still looked like a teenager, just a boy, sandy blonde hair and big green eyes and pointing a gun right at him.

"Look. You can do whatever you want with me, but you let them go. They have done nothing to you or your boss."

"Sorry, old man, orders are orders. And mine are to gut them, have you watch, then offer you a deal."

All he had to do was stall for time until he came up with a plan.

"What deal?"

Think things through and make a decision based on that.

"You can either end your misery, I can do it, or you can tell me where Dean is, in which case I'll take you to my boss and if he likes what he sees, maybe you'll be well off."

"How about I tell you where Dean is, leave them be, and kill me? I'm dead anyway I go about it, I know how this works."

"Hm… no, my orders were pretty clear. They have to die."

"And what's to say I don't attack you right now, and they've used this time to leave?"

"Because you're family, _duh._ They'll never leave you here. And it's pathetic, all of you disgusting family types with your dinners and love, it's a total–"

Whatever more the blonde was going to say was cut off with a mix of shouts and Castiel watched this boy and his brother go down behind the couch, heard the gun skid away and a sickening series of blows and grunts, saw the candlestick in his brother's hand in rise and fall, rise and fall. He knew Jimmy had never been in a fight before, he had no idea what to do, what was enough, and Castiel hurried over and hooked his arms under his armpits, struggling to calm him down and falling back.

"Jimmy, stop! Stop, it's enough! It's over! It's safe!"

Jimmy did calm down and there they both were, on the living room carpet, Jimmy sitting in between Castiel's legs, Castiel still holding his arms back and both with their chests heaving for air. Eventually, what he did caught up with him and the candlestick fell out of Jimmy's limp hand.

"Oh God… _oh my God…"_

"Jimmy, just breathe. It's okay, just breathe. Follow with me, in and out."

Castiel did let his arms go, moving his arms to instead wrap around him, left hand over his brother's heart and the other right above his abdomen, taking deep breaths in and out, repeating it a few times until he was certain that he could breathe well on his own, at which point he called out to Amelia.

"It's safe now! Go get Claire, make sure her eyes are covered!"

Whilst they waited, he carefully removed his right hand to grab the candlestick, standing it upright and wiggling his sleeve to cover his hand so he could clean it. He knew this was not going to clean everything up, there was no way it could, but he could try and get rid of the evidence that tied his brother to it and replace it with his own, taking it into his hand the way he saw Jimmy did.

Castiel owed him everything and even if he did not, he was still his brother, he would still do this.

Tossing it aside, he coaxed his twin into standing up with him, right when Amelia came out carrying Claire and her suitcase, hearing her gasp at the sight and Castiel shook his head when she looked at him, after Jimmy would not meet her eyes. He took him along to grab the suitcase Amelia had packed and then went out to the car, fit it all in, and once they all had their seat belts on, Castiel did not look back once at the house.

Out of all times they had all been in one car, this was by far the most silent it had ever been.

Not that he minded, the ATC was far too busy thinking where they could go, what he could do to make sure they were safe. These people were already after them, they were dangerous, they almost got to them and it was not exactly like Castiel had a whole list of dangerous people that could deal with them, that could protect his family, that could meet this threat with an equally powerful force, to stave them off long enough to figure this all out and expose these people.

He did not have a whole list… but he did have one.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye at his brother, he was slumped in his seat, rubbing at his left hand, the one that had wielded the candlestick. And a look in the rearview mirror showed him Claire huddled up with Amelia, face buried in her chest and all her mother could do was press kisses to her head and rub her back to reassure her, regardless of how shaken up she was and needed reassurance herself.

Castiel made a promise to do good, to be a better person, to think before he acted instead of doing what felt good in the moment.

Castiel promised to protect them.

Castiel promised they would be safe.

Castiel said he muddled through and would continue to do so.

So, he thought, he made his decision, took a right and he would muddle through.

He promised.

It was a less pleasant area of Pontiac that he drove in and eventually parked the car at, if one knew what actually laid beyond the nice appearance and knew the right things to say. Castiel knew exactly what this place was and what to say, instructing them all to follow him into the innocent looking dry cleaners. He insisted they sit on the chairs farthest from the door, not at the corner, but the middle and wait there for him. Jimmy was still not looking around, instead smiling weakly at Clair, who sat in between him and Amelia, and holding her hand–he refused to touch her with his left–promising her it was okay.

Amelia, however, did look around, she was observing the whole ride here and now that they were inside, as Castiel was about to go to the counter, she grabbed his hand. She looked so sad now, Castiel noticed, she was clutching his hand so tight, not wanting him to go and he knew that she knew, where this was, what he was planning, she knew everything and she wanted him to stay, to not do this, maybe she thought there was another way.

They both sort of just knew there was not.

He pressed a kiss to her hand, pulling his back, before going to Claire and kissing her cheek.

"I'll be back soon, princess. Then we can get you your blue hair."

"Okay, Uncle Cas."

Jimmy was not so responsive when he kissed the top of his head and he murmured, "I promise you'll all be safe. I promise I'll come back."

Castiel always held true to his promises, so he would make sure this was the same.

As he went up to the front and rang the bell, it did not take long for a female to wander out from the back, a smirk tugging at her painted lips the second she saw him.

"Well, well. I didn't think I'd see you again. Come back because you miss me, Clarence?"

"I need to see him, Meg."

"Awh, here I thought you came for me," She started to lean against the counter and flicked her finger along his chin, "After all, we did have a lot of fun then, didn't we? In between your appointments, at least."

"It was fun until you thought you were with child."

"You got me there. Anyway, he doesn't normally see people, not without setting up a meeting," Her eyes darted over to the three sitting down and she smiled that not at all innocent smile he had come to know her for, "But, I think he'll make an exception for you, sweet cheeks."

All he needed to hear, he made his way around to Meg and they were heading to the back when Jimmy called out.

"Castiel."

When he looked back, his twin was staring back at him, face somber and voice steady, which he realised was there not to give away what he felt and thought.

"Promise?"

But Castiel could read him, the same way Jimmy could read him, and offered a smile.

"Promise, brother."

He had no idea when he would see them again, but he liked that the last thing he saw was Jimmy smiling back at him.

The back of the dry cleaners looked as it always did and they reached a door that Meg knocked on before entering, Castiel lingering behind because that was how it was supposed to be.

"Father, you'll never guess who showed up today! Come in, don't be shy now, that's not your style."

And now it was time to go in, which he did and he already felt horrible being back here, standing beside Meg, seeing Tom–her brother–off in the corner, and right in front of him, sitting casually as ever on the couch, there he was.

"Hello, Alastair."

Already, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the scrutiny of this man before he gave a throaty chuckle.

"Seems our little angel made his way back to us, now didn't he?"

"I need your help."

"Anything for my best worker. Best until you left me, of course, without so much as a goodbye. That really hurt my feelings."

"You ostracised me when I said I stopped using."

"That's the business, I'm afraid. You weren't going to bring in enough money after that."

"Because everyone gets off on having a druggie teenager suck them off, fuck them or be fucked for cash, of course, how could I forget."

Castiel should probably have kept his mouth shut, not given such snappy remarks, though Alastair only laughed again and waggled his finger at him.

"I knew there was something I liked about you, angel, glad to see it's not gone. So, what do you need?"

"Protection. For my family, I don't much care if I don't get any, they just need to remain safe. Some kind of drug dealer and her boss, they're after them because of me. I haven't used since I went clean, but someone I know got tangled up in it and one thing led to another, now I am here."

It was all rushed out, the man not wanting the other to keep interrupting or making comments here and there or worse, assume that he went to someone else for drugs and now he was crawling back to him. The older man kept staring at him then nodded at Meg, who pushed him forward a few steps.

"I might be willing to do it. For a price, of course."

Castiel could mention he only had about fifty dollars left in cash, though he was aware that was not what Alastair meant at all.

"You get back to your old job and how well you do will reflect your family's protection. Less work, less protection. Extra work, extra protection. Deal?"

"I'm going to charge extra this time around, you'll get your extra."

"Perfect. To celebrate your return, I'll even get you your first night's clients, Meg will tell you everything you need to know."

"Understood."

Castiel was already turning around when he heard the man clucking his tongue in disapproval and inwardly cursed his stupidity. He was supposed to wait until he told him to go, he should have remembered that, and he faced him once more, head bowed in the hopes of looking apologetic.

"Now, don't be too hard on yourself, angel. You'll remember everything in time. Not too much, though. Before you go, I have one more little… requirement, for our deal and for your dear, lovely family to receive protection."

"Yes?"

"I need to make sure you are fully committed, you understand," He snapped his fingers towards Tom and he was moving to the table that separated Castiel from the man in record time. As soon as Castiel saw what came out, he could not help it, he took a few steps back, bumping into Meg and shook his head.

_"No."_

He could sell his body, he could be just a grunt, beating people up, he would even submit to killing someone if it came down to it, but not that.

Not drugs, not again.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head, I know it's not your preferred method, but it's nothing you haven't already done, it was a favourite of yours, even. Not meth, of course," Castiel looked at him sharply, eyes wide simply at the mention of it, of what it caused, itching to get out because not this, anything but this again, "I know that's what drove you away, poor boy's body couldn't handle it, too potent compared to amphetamines. Maybe you'll be better this time, but we can start off slow. It's just enough to get you going for tonight, loosen you up."

Tom was by him now, holding out some sort of straw, that neat little line of powder hanging out on the table, like it was not tearing him apart, not bombarding him with memories, even if some were hazy, not threatening to undo all he built in eleven years, just being there.

"Of course, if your family isn't worth it, we can forget the whole thing."

_I'll be safe. Promise._

Castiel owed them his life, they pulled him out of this hell when he dove in head first just because it felt good in the moment, he promised them he would think before he acted because of that, that he would never again simply do.

_I promise I'll protect you._

He continued staring at the line, then at the straw, then back at the line and he thought. He did not simply submit himself because he knew what would follow, he thought about what it meant, what would happen, he thought about everything.

"… We had a deal. You honour your end, I will do the same."

_I promise you'll all be safe._

Castiel thought about everything, considered everything he knew as of this moment, and he made his choice. He took the straw, went to kneel in front of the table, ignored the pounding of his heart that once again felt like it was trying to jump out his throat–it was nerves, he rationalised–bowed his head, situated the straw and closed his opposing nostril with his finger, counted to three, and it was all gone in one swift go.

_I promise I'll come back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Castiel. I made it such a hard decision to make. But, not really, I guess, he's willing to do anything for family. I do know the trench coat is associated more with Castiel, since Jimmy is only seen in one episode, but I thought it would go better with him, based on everything in the story. And then poor Dean, with his father, and all that guilt and now Castiel's run off, too. The demons are all over the place, too, with who works for who, I know, but they stay within their own little clusters in the story and Azazel and Alastair were two supposed big bads, for awhile, so it seemed reasonable. 
> 
> Do little kids still play four square? I believe that is the name of it, I remember seeing kids in my class playing something like that when I was little, but that was years and years ago;;
> 
> I was thinking of maybe making the next chapter in Dean's point of view, from when he find the note to the search for Castiel and his thoughts if–when–he finds him. Any thoughts on that?


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sets off to find Castiel and receives far more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accomplished my goal of getting a new chapter out two days from the last. It's not really a deadline that's set in stone, but it's a nice sort of guideline. What's interesting is most of my writing gets done really late at night, during the time I should be sleeping. I only just finished this chapter and it's around four thirty in the morning. I guess that's what I get for having strange shifts and having to sleep more towards the day;;
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is in Dean's perspective. I was already contemplating doing it, since it felt like a good point to do it and it was suggested. I don't get many comments per chapter, though I would thank Mollypr for the input about whether it'd be liked or not, it means a lot. And a thank you to lizerd70 for being there since the beginning with such lovely comments. c:
> 
> Apologies for any typos, I'll be looking it over and fixing any along the way. I should invest time in actually transferring it from my notes on my iPhone to my laptop, but I never do;;
> 
> In any case, enjoy! :D

Castiel Novak was an idiot.

He was a reckless, thoughtless, jackass of an idiot and there was plenty more where that came from, plenty more insults and certainly plenty more things Dean wanted to do to that idiot when he found him. First, he would probably check him over to see if he was hurt, then his family, then he would tell him if he could talk to him alone and finally he would punch him so hard, that damn septum clicker of his that Dean fucked around with just last night when he slept until he woke up with a sneeze and unfathomable itch he could not get rid of to get back at him for the parking meter would come right off.

And then maybe he would check him over again to make sure he was not badly hurt, but he would be berating him all the while, he would.

At the end, maybe he would hug the stupid guy, relieved that he was still alive and well, though there was more that came to mind that was better left untouched for the sake of everything not getting tangled up more than it was. As far as anyone was concerned, in this moment until they managed to prove themselves innocent, Castiel was nothing more than someone he was meant to keep safe. After, well, that was something else altogether.

But he could not get to the fucking after with Castiel having taken off like that.

It started once he stepped out of the shower and slung on a pair of jeans, drying off his hair and musing over how much time Charlie would need before they could take off. Staying too long was dangerous, after all, for everyone.

"Hey, Cas, you find your wallet?"

It was only right to ask, after all. A wallet was a very important thing, he must have found it by now. No answer was given and another, "Cas?" was called out before he swiped up a razor and tucked it into his back pocket in case. The door was opened and the room was empty, television muted but still on. Nothing looked upturned or disturbed in the least, beyond Castiel's bedsheets, at least, and there were some photographs, he saw upon closer inspection amongst the folds of the sheets.

Picking them up, he never saw the young girl before focused on in the first picture, or the woman in the next, though the third picture confirmed what he was already thinking. There was the piercing-free, natural hair colour, worked in an office with a suit and tie version of Castiel, Jimmy, caught in mid-laugh along with some of his coworkers or friends who just enjoyed stuffy suits. The woman was Amelia, his wife, and the girl was Claire, his daughter.

About not even a day ago, Dean had no idea that Castiel's brother was actually his twin, so he did perhaps stare at the picture a little longer than the other two. It was… strange, seeing the man like that. Obviously, Castiel had looked like that, once upon a time, but he had never seen it and the man had told him his first piercing was when he was fourteen–his tongue, he had told him–and had gotten the mother of someone he knew to sign off on it and he had begun to dye his hair around that age. Even now, the other admitted that his hair was not its natural colour, he used a brand he was fond of since young that had his hair jet black for all these years. Jimmy, on the other hand, had brown hair.

Dean preferred how Castiel looked now, it seemed natural for him, fitting, and the ATC said it felt better, too.

Another picture was almost missed, though he picked it up, first looking at the three it depicted and then flipped it around, frowning as he read the text. What the hell type of low blow was this? Before he could conjure up some crazy possibility of what happened, he caught sight of the paper on the nightstand and it was picked up as well, read over and he swore, crumpling it up and throwing it.

_Sorry. I'll be safe. Promise._

That idiot went off back home to his family even after all he told him what could happen, what was very likely to happen. This was nothing more than bait and he took it hook, line and sinker. Neither Azazel or Lilith seemed the type to waste manpower on someone like the Novak's, they were of no threat to them at all. If Castiel showed up, however, that would change everything and that was exactly why he said to stay away from them.

Storming out of the room, he headed to the front desk, grabbed the phone and dial without preamble, one dark look at the weasel of a man that tried to protest had him scurrying to the back. He avoided tapping his fingers on the desk, not knowing and not wanting to know what had been on it in the past, restless as the line rang.

"Queen of Moondoor speaking."

"Charlie. How long until you get a hit on something big?"

"End of the day, most likely. That's if there's anything being planned or done recently, because too far back, it's probably already covered up and information's been bounced all over the world. Why?"

"It's Cas. He's gone."

"… Did they get him?"

"No. He's walking right into a trap, going to his family back in Pontiac."

Dean heard some rustling on the other side of the line as she spoke, "Okay, wait a sec, let–let me just…" Some more noise, tapping this time before she made a triumphant noise, "I got into the traffic cams around the motel, I'm checking back… ah, found him! He snatched a white Plymouth Neon, license plate 189 VMF and… it looks like he was heading down to the I-70. I can try and map out his route, once he gets to Pontiac, if you don't get to him before that."

Dean felt a small sense of relief, knowing he could count on Charlie to find him, though it was not enough and the turmoil of what to do was still there, no matter how small. He had to keep Castiel safe, he did, he could not let the same thing happen to him or his family. And he only had maybe a half an hour head start, not to mention the man sucked with long distance driving–on their way to Kansas, he kept missing quicker routes, claiming that everything was easier in the sky, he never had to worry about this–so he might be able to catch up to him. On the other hand, Charlie said she could finish by the end of the day and if she did, he could finally get them and then everyone would be safe.

"Dean."

"Huh?"

Right, he was still on the line.

"You should go, find him and make sure they're all safe. I'll get you everything you need, maybe I'll even find more, and you can get it all on the way back."

Seems his decision was made for him and really, Dean was not protesting.

"Thanks, Charlie."

"Just take care of him, alright?"

"You got it. And, uh, Charlie, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Can you get me Jimmy Novak's address?"

A quick search, an address scribbled down, and he was back in the motel room, packing. He took the pictures with him and, before he exited, stopped short at the little wad of paper at the foot of the bed. Picking it up, he smoothed it out, read it again, finally folding it in half and tucking it into a pocket inside his jacket.

Dean would hold Castiel to his promise and if anything happened, anything at all that had him hurt or hapless and hopeless, he would have proof to keep him going and not give up.

At first, Dean started going down the street, eyeing all the cars he passed to pick out a good one that did not look like it would break down halfway through. And he meant to get one of those, honest, he did. So, even he was a little surprised to find himself standing across the street from his business, staring at the entrance then slowly at the Impala in the lot. Fidgeting in his spot, a quick glance was spared before he jogged over to it, crouched down by the driver's side and sticking his hand under, feeling around until something popped off into his palm. The small key caused him to grin, knowing keeping it there would someday be of use and after removing one of his bracelets and placing it on the neatly painted white line, got into the car and started it up.

As much as he wanted to cherish this moment, listen to her purr, everything, he peeled right on out of there and headed off. He took more inconspicuous streets to get out of town, the sound of his car alone enough to alert anyone who knew even remotely of Dean Winchester that it was his beloved Impala. And, he probably should have thought about it, thought it strange that he had an urge to go back for his car after so long of not using it for the very reason that it was distinctive. But, it felt right, to do this, like somehow it would all be okay, like it was going to be what got him through this, got them all through this. Flicking on the radio, he sighed and ran his fingers along the dashboard.

"Don't fail me now, baby."

Considering that he was on the run, he supposed he had to be grateful that the system was as it was and that was rather, well, slow, to be kind about it. Or maybe he was just really good at evading it and covering up his tracks, because there was nothing on the radio about any sightings or warnings and Dean could also be thankful that, in comparison to some of the crimes being committed, he was small-fry, a guy that could not be worth so many resources.

Either way, it was a goddamn blessing, one of very few he received, and the other blessing of the day was traffic was not congested, which allowed him to arrive more or less around the time he thought Castiel had. He stopped by the first Gas 'n' Sip he saw, refilled the tank, purchased a phone, and sat in the car as he set it up, fired off a text to Charlie to give her the number and dialled a number that she had given him, listening to the female who picked up rattle off whatever cheesy line corporate thought was good.

"Can I speak to Jimmy Novak? It's important."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Novak is out on his break right now."

Fuck.

"Did he happen to say where he was taking his break? Like I said, it's really important," Come on, think of something good, "I have the gift he wanted for his wife, for the surprise dinner he's been planning for weeks now and I'd really hate for him not to see it before everything's set up."

A soft "awh" and sigh was heard, followed by a pause and then a hesitant, "Well… he did receive a call right before he left, a man left him a message, telling him about crossing a bridge when he comes to it. It must be part of the surprise too."

Castiel already got in touch with him.

"Yeah. It is. Thank you."

"I hope the dinner goes well!"

Hanging up, he tossed the phone into the passenger's seat, muttering, "So do I," before driving off.

Crossing a bridge when he comes to it, that was code, that much he knew. What it possibly could be, there were a lot of things that phrase could mean. Starting off simply, it could be an actual bridge. Castiel had talked a lot about growing upon Pontiac and one thing he had mentioned with a fond smile was the swinging bridges. When he had later told him of his brother, he mentioned one in particular, at a park, that he would always love to walk on and have to practically drag his brother with him when they were little kids whilst he cried all the way, afraid the bridge was going to break somehow and they would both plummet into the river.

That bridge was also one he walked on with Claire, the park not being far from the house.

It was worth a try and after some small difficulty navigating the new town in which he did stop someone to ask for directions–a teenager, by the looks of her, which meant less risk of being recognised–he pulled up to the parking lot, in a spot that was somewhat obscured by the trees. The park itself was pretty beautiful, all lush and kids playing, a place he would choose to just find a bench at, sit down, and relax. Now was not the time, unfortunately, so he surveyed the area, finding no clues and no Castiel or Jimmy.

Fuck.

Asking around was too risky now, parents were always so on top of the news, simply standing here could be the equivalent of calling the cops and that had him heading back to his car. Okay, so he was probably going to go to their house, no damn use in trying to decipher this now. The house, as Castiel told him, was maybe five minutes away from this place.

He reached it in three.

There was a car still in the driveway that he pulled up behind of, cutting the engine and stepping out, up to the front door and already, dread bubbled up in and he had the sense that something was very, very wrong. Trying the door, it was unlocked and he stepped in, looking around. Nothing seemed off about the hallway, or the kitchen he peeked into, or the living room.

Except that body there, that was probably something off.

He had not noticed it first, due to the couch, but that was a quite real boy's body that looked like he had his face bashed in brutally, blood coming from the lacerations that he had trouble pinpointing with how there was crimson everywhere. A gun was not too far from him, along with a candlestick that was bloodied up at the candle cup, some having trickled down the flared bobeche along its length.

Hundred bucks said that was what caused all the damage.

It did not look like the boy was going to get up anytime soon, though he kicked the gun under the couch for good measure as he continued into the next hallway and found himself with a man this time, unconscious as well, with his nose definitely broken and judging by his slack jaw that looked a bit too unusual, something was going on there. No weapon was around and he rubbed his jaw when he nudged the man's face with his boot, seeing how it moved in an unnatural way.

"Jeez, Cas, remind me never to piss you off…"

Stepping around the man, he pushed open the doors to the other rooms, no more people around knocked out cold. Claire's bedroom would have looked untouched if the closet was not open, some coat hangers left bare and her drawers having been hastily shut. The same went for the master bedroom and it peeved Dean that he had not made it soon enough to meet up with Castiel. He could have gotten them out of there, taken all of them back to Lawrence. As much as he hated to get them involved anymore than they already were, he could have asked Jo to take them in, get them to her mother, Ellen, and they would be safe there. Loving mother she was, but Ellen was also a damn force to be reckoned with and he did his best not to get on her bad side, it was downright fucking terrifying.

Best not to linger here, he decided, and exited the house, wiping the knob down and where he was going, he was not all too certain. It ended up being a motel he checked into, a seedy little thing that he was about ninety-nine percent sure had way more than one violation of public safety at the check in, where a… makeup-enthusiast woman, to be polite in describing her like he was raised to be, was the one to talk to and Dean cringed away every time she blew a bubble and popped it or tried to graze their hands together whenever convenient, those fake nails of hers causing a shudder to run down his spine.

They were ridiculously long, might as well have been raptor claws.

His room was not all too better and he went by to double check the Impala was locked, windows rolled up, everything to keep it from getting stolen. Settled in as best he could be, he fished out his phone to make a call, being maybe not as polite as he should have been in speaking as soon as the other picked up.

"Charlie, did you get all of his steps down? I got to the house and it looks like they've already tried to get him. Didn't work, but I don't know where Cas would go from there."

"I did get the car coming into Pontiac, he ditched it, though. And, wherever he went from there, I can't get any feed from there. He's good, Dean."

Of course he would know where to go not to be caught on any cameras around here, he only lived here for the first twenty or so years of his life.

"How about anything at or near Humiston-Riverside Park? Or his brother's house?"

"I can check."

It did not take long, he imagined, but the wait stretched on to him, to the point where it seemed like even this room was getting more confining, trying to crush and choke him in its pitiful entirety,

"I do have him and… woah, it's like seeing a clean cut double of him. Uh, distracting, okay. Anyway, I–I got him in a blue Honda Civic leaving the park, but that's it. His street doesn't have cameras set up and it might take me awhile to find something from here…"

Dean heard the change in her voice, how it went from factual to suggestive of what could be done and his immediate answer was clearly, "No. That's out of the question."

"But I can do more if I'm there! You're the one who's wanted, not me. That means I can actually walk down the streets without the fuzz to worry about. I can find Cas, bring him and his family to you, then you can get out of there."

"It's too dangerous, they could go after you, too. I can't let you do that."

"I want to do this, Dean. Cas, he's a good guy, he deserves all the help he can get, just like you do. And this–it can be my adventure. Not as dangerous as yours, but my own. Besides, I've always wanted to see the swinging bridges of Pontiac."

"You probably didn't even know of them before."

"I'll report in a few hours. Charlie out."

Even if Dean wanted to say something, the call ended and he was left to stare at the phone before pocketing it. No doubt if he tried to call her now, she would either not answer or she would blast some sort of music until she hung up.

He had quite enough of Walking On Sunshine.

It would take until nightfall for Charlie to arrive and he was unsure what to do until then. Staying in the room was a guaranteed way to drive himself mad and that would not do at all. Roaming Pontiac could do some good, that much was true, but there was only so long he could be out in plain sight before it was really pushing the envelope.

Sight seeing it was.

He spent an inordinate amount of time back at that park, taking in that bridge and trying to picture the path the man would take. The Impala was left at the motel, to avoid too much attention, and he walked down all the streets for hours, mapping it all out in his head. It would prove useful, later, if he needed to get somewhere quick or duck away for a moment. A lot of the places he ended up finding himself at were places he was told about, places Castiel went as he was growing up, some with his brother, some alone.

Dean noticed that the places he was alone at differed some from the ones he went to with his brother. The latter were locations expected from two brothers having a good time, the theatres, parks, even an old-fashion ice cream parlour. However, when he was alone, they were more secluded places and almost on the opposite side of where he would be with Jimmy. They were strange places, too, places he might not otherwise place a teenager at, especially not alone. When he spoke about that, it had always seemed like he was omitting details and then would stop in the middle of the memory, shake his head, and say that was the past and there was no reason to think about it now.

Now that he was here, it somehow seemed extremely relevant.

Because he had mentioned this pool he enjoyed going to, though he failed to mention it was at a motel and said motel was abandoned. Maybe he never thought Dean would be here to see it himself. Whatever the reason was, now he was here and he made his way around, looking at the vegetation filling the pool and the gate surrounding it. It looked normal for a rundown, out of business motel on the outside. As he got closer, he saw that there were the usual squatters, a male and female that he could see, and that was not strange to him.

Except, they were moving oddly. Slowly but surely, not in pain or anything, though they did look frightfully thin, with sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones, like…

Like addicts.

The more he looked around, the more he saw those of similar appearance and everything was painfully, blindingly clear in that moment. All the times Castiel told him that was the past, how he had told him of his life but there were all these gaps where he look so distant and pained, pointedly avoiding questions about that, how easily he picked up on the way the whole drug hierarchy worked and fell into the rhythm of evading them, the things to say and do, how he had seemed so desperate to get to his family, hysterical even, and insisted over and over again that he owed them his life, that he had dragged them into this again.

Castiel used to be an addict.

At the time, when Castiel told him he lived it, Dean had been angry and frustrated he would not leave it be, so he had assumed he meant he had someone he helped in the past. Then when he was mentioning he owed them his life, he was more focused on keeping him from killing himself by doing such a reckless thing like leaving, not having interpreted into it further. In this revelation, he realised he could have just judged right away that he was such, with how he looked and all, but appearances were hardly everything.

The rest of the walk back to the motel, he mulled over this. He knew Castiel a total of five days and he could not say he knew the guy like he was his lifelong friend or anything. What he could say was he had an impeccable sense of gauging if a person was good or bad, which had been useful many times on the past, like when Sam first introduced his new friend, Ruby, to him. When they had found a motel room the first day, nothing seemed off about the other, nor the second day or the third and so on.

But he used to be an addict.

Now, Dean did not think all addicts were bad people because Sam was a good man, he was just misled down a dark path. Looking at what people became, what they did for their vice, that he did think made for bad people, people that had to be stopped, that could not be trusted, all that and Dean could be vocal on that. He hated hearing about people who started for shits and giggles, damn well hated the people themselves for their choices, they were idiots and if he were any crueller, if he did not know all the devastating consequences of what drugs could do, he would say they got what they deserved.

Where did Castiel fall under?

All the pieces were in his face the whole time and he was only just getting it now. Even so, he tried to consider both possibilities. If he had been just unfortunate enough to be led astray, he was glad he had someone to help him off that path and he had stayed clean. If he had done it himself just to experiment… Dean had no idea what to think then. Be mad, sure, he would be, for such a thoughtless choice. As mad as he was for others, that was debatable even if it should have been a clear answer. Black and white, that was all there was, all that should be.

Why could he not, then?

Aggravated by this sudden bombardment of thoughts, he had spent the rest of the day cooped up in his room, refusing to put anymore thought to anything but the reruns he watched of older shows like The Dick Van Dyke Show, Wonder Woman, and Star Trek. During a scene where Kirk, Spock and Dr. McCoy had all reunited, his phone went off and a look at the time showed it was almost ten.

"Charlie. Where are you?"

"I'm here already. Well, not here, there, at the motel. I checked into another one, a bit farther from the park, thought it'd be safer that way. It's late now, so I thought we could get started tomorrow."

"Sounds good, kiddo. Get some sleep."

With Charlie not here with him, it was relieving and nerve wracking at the same time, needing to be able to keep an eye on her but knowing that, for starters, this motel sucked and it would be more dangerous for her to be in direct contact with him.

She called him, though, to let him know she was there and safe, that was all he asked for right now. He might as well get sleep, getting ready and going through the motions, television turned off and slipped under the covers. Only being ten, he doubt he would slip off into dreamland easily. More sleep meant being more alert and that had him trying and staring into the darkness.

About not even ten minutes into his attempts, he heard the door of the room next to him open and close, some muffled voices and not long after that it got a little more R-rated. A little more meaning surpassing ceiling limit of what could be deemed R-rated and became just plain explicit, do not expose to pure, virgin ears kind of deal. That was expected, he learnt, in places like these and it did not make it any less weird or uncomfortable to hear. The mechanic was all for having a good time, make sure the other has a good time, too, good and pleasurable times all around. But, there was the idea he had in his head that it was an intimate act in far more ways than one, that people should have it only to themselves, experiences only they could say they knew, that they could hold dear.

That was meant for two people who cared deeply for each other, in other words.

This litany of "more, more, _faster, oh,"_ and other very enthusiastic encouragement amongst various noises kind of gave him the idea that it was maybe not so emotionally attached people. Only the female was heard so clearly, the male not so vocal in that way and okay, either this chick was good at faking an orgasm or the guy was amazing in bed and either one did not float his boat because he was trying to get to sleep.

It was quiet save for some shuffling around after awhile, then the door opened and closed, followed by another door, the sink running for awhile, then silence for about fifteen minutes before the door opened again.

Dean did not like where this was going.

Dean definitely did not like when the noises started again and it was a man talking this time, words not too distinguishable, though enough to piece together he was getting a blowjob and that was way too much information, more than he ever wanted. Luckily, it was over and the process repeated once the man left and it was stupid to hope that was it for the night when it started again, a different female voice taking him by surprise.

It was presumptuous to think it a female right away and somewhat–majorly–sexist to do so when he knew that… people in that trade–prostitute just had such a negative connotation to it nowadays, it seemed wrong to use it–could be either male or female. This was either a female with no qualms about the gender of their customers or a male.

He went with the second choice.

Frankly, though, he could care less the damn gender they were. They could identify as genderless or genderfluid if that made them feel comfortable with themselves and was who they were, but they needed to get their customers to shut the fuck up because he was trying to sleep and did not want to hear about how sexy or hot or damn good in the sack they were.

He hated motels.

In the end, he had to give some props to the guy for having the stamina of a fucking stallion or something for how long he went and he probably went on longer after he fell asleep. He could admit he never could go that long, probably have a chafed and worn dick if he tried to go all night with as much energy, that was just inhuman. Guy probably slept during the day or something because Dean felt tired just having been kept up by the noise, immediately ordering a coffee once he got to the diner that Charlie had picked and she seemed to have noticed it.

"Sleep late last night?"

"More like kept up by the dude banging people into a stupor all night."

"… Oh. Uh, well, was he cute, at least?"

"How the hell should I know? I didn't go and knock on the door and say, 'Hi, I overheard your clients say you were hot, so I just wanted to see for myself.'"

"Right. Yes, that'd be bad. Like, super bad. Okay, moving on. I got the scoop and Cas' family, they haven't been shown as missing. You said there were two guys at their house, but nothing's been called in. His brother's work has been notified he's taking time off, his niece's school is the same, his sister-in-law is a stay at home mom, so no one needed to be told anything. As far as anyone's concerned, the Novak's are just taking time off, vacationing. That's the thing, though, it's too… perfect."

"Too perfect?"

"Yes. The explanations and supporting documents for work and school, the fact that no one's noticed anything in their house. That place should be crawling with detectives or something. Not to mention I can't find any feed showing them leaving anywhere, no records, nothing. They just dropped right off the grid as soon as Cas met up with Jimmy. If he's that good on his own, I don't think you'd be needing me to find your information, he could've done it for you."

That was worrisomely true. No way Castiel was that good, not without some kind of help. Hell, even if he asked Charlie to pull something off like that, she would need an extra pair of hands or more to get everything in place or for more items to accomplish that. There was no doubt in his mind that Castiel was a smart man and resourceful as hell, not at all, but resourceful enough, on his own, to get his family off the radar in less than a day from the eyes of one of the major drug gangs out for their blood type of resourceful?

Dean was going to take an educated guess and say no, Castiel was not that resourceful on his own. It did not make sense that he had panicked so badly if he had the power to do that, that he had not mentioned he could do that when they took off from LA. This particular drug gang, ring, whatever the fuck they called themselves was one of the more well known ones, powerful, and to evade detection by it when specifically being targeted, located even, was a near impossible thing.

… Unless one had protection from another drug ring.

To instigate anything with another equally strong boss would inevitably lead to some kind of battle breaking out and before one knew it, erupted into a goddamn war. Under the scrutiny of the law these days, such was not a smart move, and someone like Castiel, who had been dragged in just days ago by Dean, he doubt they saw him as a major threat, not valuable enough to risk discontent amongst another circle.

Castiel used to be an addict.

Addicts had one dealer they always went to–like Sam had Ruby–and they could have good enough ties. Some addicts were probably even dealers themselves and that meant having some sort of status. Either one of those, if they applied to Castiel, he could very well have gone back to whoever he used to know, could have asked to be looked after along with his family, could have worked something out. Dean realised he had no idea how long Castiel was clean, he had barely pieced together he did drugs in the past. What if it was barely months or a year or two and now this was happening, what if he really had gone back, what would that mean for him, for his family?

_I owe them **my life,** my whole goddamn life that I would have stupidly ended if they didn't intervene._

What would happen to Castiel's life?

"Dean? Hey, Dean?"

Snapping back from his thoughts, he saw Charlie lowering her hand from where she was waving it in his face.

"You alright? You spaced out."

"I'm fine, just, I've got to go question a few people," As he spoke, he started getting up from his seat, pulling out a five to pay for his untouched coffee, "Can you find anything on the drug activity here? Names, locations, anything at all. I'll call you in a bit."

"See you later then?"

"Yeah. Sorry, this is important."

Fuck if it looked suspicious, he ran all the way back to that run down motel. Arriving, he had no real plan and he figured the good thing about this was that druggies never required much of a plan to deal with. Usually, they were either too gone to answer coherently or they were just the right amount of gone to answer him, after some persuasion.

As expected, they were all still riding their high in one form or another and that couple he saw his first time here were the easiest to deal with, when looking past the fact that they took time in convincing that he was not a cop and just looking for something to take the edge off and his methadone–it was the first to come to mind–was nowhere near cutting it any longer. They had instructed him what street to go to, who to go to–some chick named Meg–and what to tell her, along with who sent him–their names were Jennifer and Jake, they said they were well known–and that should get him hooked up, so long as he had the cash.

He felt dirty all the way back to the motel and hopped in the shower first thing.

Accidentally "wandering" to the particular street he was given, nothing seemed off about the place. It was a bit beat up compared to streets around the park, sure, not enough to warrant any alarm or assumption that it was grounds for a drug dealer to hang out in. There still shops open here, even a quaint little tea shop and a Goodwill. Less populated as well, he noticed, and the people around did not give the air of being dealers.

Maybe he just had a bad eye at this, not ever having done something like this before.

Lost in what more he could do, he concluded maybe it was at night when the dealers came out, like owls or something, and headed back. Calling Charlie gave him not too much in quantity, though it has heavy on significance. A few things were found about who was thought to be the distributor of drugs around here, a man by the name of Alastair. All charges filed against him over the years fell short, however, and he was virtually untouched, along with his two children, Tom and Meg Masters.

Hot damn, those two gave him a hell of a strong lead then and so close to the heart of their little circle. Though, considering that, it was easy, incredibly so, to hate this Alastair. Who the hell has kids and then brings them into that life, even uses them as dealers? Did he even let them use the drugs, just not give two shits? No one deserved to have children of their own if they were just going to use them that way and not care for their well-being as they should.

Fuck these people, fuck them all, it would be better if the world was rid of them.

Sadly, he could not do that. He could destroy Azazel and Lilith, make them pay and yet, that was only one of who knew how many. All the mechanic could do was wait until it got dark, get ready, and go back to that street to do recon. Said recon would be a lot better if there was something to actually look at rather than some stragglers on the street and a flickering neon sign of a liquor store. The mechanic lingered awhile, until he was paranoid that if there was someone, they were likely now questioning why he was hanging out like that.

Arriving back at the motel, he got ready for bed, ready to sleep and was robbed of the opportunity when that fucking noise started again in the room next to his.

Jesus, did this guy not have days in between to rest?

Maybe it was a different guy and maybe all these guys were supernaturally good in bed. Not maybe was it that he needed sleep and needed it now before all his thoughts boiled over and he would go over there and tell them to keep it down or go a few rooms down. Eventually, he got to sleep to the inappropriate lullaby of two people fucking into goddamn oblivion and he did not bother to check the time when he jolted away from a particularly nasty dream because he would rather not know how long it had been.

If the guy wanted to do this to make his money, let him, it was none of his business.

On the third night, although, it very much became his business.

The third day of searching was unsuccessful for Dean and for Charlie. Regardless of where he looked, the mechanic found no trace of this Meg, who Jennifer said was "pretty, with like… nice brown hair, wavy, and lipstick" because that was a pretty crappy description when brown hair was a dominant trait and lots of girls wore makeup and liked to change up their hair. He had gotten so desperate for something that he had gone back to the motel to ask them again, only to find they were now in the category of too far gone to answer him coherently.

Fuck drugs and everything they stood for.

Illicit ones, at least.

That had been crappy as it was and to make matters worse, he had forgotten his phone in his room the whole day and noticed after his shower when he went to grab it to call Charlie. It had led to him turning the room inside out, finding it an hour later fallen behind the nightstand and by then, it was too late at night to call her, she should be asleep by now with how early she woke up and he did not want to give her reason to stay up.

Right on the dot, at ten, the other room's door opened and the stress, the self-blame, everything just morphed into a big ball of fuck everything in his chest, popped, and all the contents filled every damn nook and cranny of his body. There was enough decency in him left to wait until the client–a man first, this time–left and he heard the sink's water run them stop before putting on his boots and almost ripping the door off its hinges when he opened it. Fuck the interlude between clients, he was going to use it to tell this asshole to tone it down or fucking move because enough was enough, there was common decency, he should fucking learn it.

Pounding at the door, he did glance around to check that there was no new client that he would have to tell to hit the road when the door opened and he gave no room for complaint, dominating the conversation at the start and leaving no room for objection.

"Look, man, I get–"

When he actually did look at the man on the other side of the door, languidly leaning against the doorjamb to entice, lips curled up into a lazy smile to charm and eyes boring straight into his with, well, Dean was sort of lacking a word to come up with a good enough description in his head as his words died on his tongue as well.

No way.

_"… Cas?"_

No fucking way.

 _"Hello,_ Dean."

It was irrevocably fucking way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise, it was Castiel all along that was in the other room, just holding up his part of the deal. I looked up a lot of different people's accounts on how it is to use certain drugs, in particular the ones Alastair has him using, and an increase in libido is an effect. So, there's the explanation to what Alastair said last chapter, about Castiel not being good for business anymore when he stopped using because another effect people experience is a sharp decrease in it when they stop. So, no hyper-arousal, no business. 
> 
> To be honest, I only barely know what Pontiac looks like because of pictures I looked up and distances based on Google maps and addresses found. I have no idea what stores are where, the accuracy of pictures found, any of that, and I do apologise for it. The run down motel is based on this picture I found of one called the Palamar Motel. I also found a very passionate review on it that said it was filled with drug addicts and the like. I don't claim it is, I've never seen it in person, but that's what it's loosely based on. If anyone has ever visited or lives there, it's be helpful to know more about it. Or Kansas, for that matter.
> 
> The Impala is back, too, hooray. I felt bad just letting it sit there. So, it'll be pivotal, at some point.
> 
> And also, it did take some time for Dean to realise Castiel was talking about himself when it came to drugs, but he was always preoccupied with other stuff. It's pretty significant that he did piece it together, it's really going to affect what he decides to do in the next chapter or two. And, he is maybe a bit attached to Castiel already, if it wasn't clear, but their safety and innocence proven is priority to him. I'm just wondering of the next chapter should remain in Dean's perspective or shift back. Any preferences?


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is still processing this all, Castiel is happy to see him, and Alastair… well, he has his own plans for the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, hooray.
> 
> This one has been done for awhile already, but I don't exactly like even numbers, I avoid them, if possible, so I waited until the date said the 31st;; Or the publication date did, it's very strange how this works. That being said, I'm not sure if I'll finish the next chapter by the 1st or if it'll be put up on the 3rd. I have a lot of stuff to be done for my research study this week and it's just ewh in terms of the load.
> 
> Part of the next chapter is done, though, so fingers crossed.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

_"Hello,_ Dean."

Dean was pretty sure Castiel was saying something else, it would make sense if he was saying something else, that was what people did, they talked, they formed sounds into words, words into sentences and so on. Except, his brain was a wee bit slow on the uptake, directing all his attention to the very bare chest of Castiel Novak with all its art just splattered right on it.

In a way, Dean felt a bit sad that he was not terribly excelled in English, in some regards. He was good, yes, he was top of his class at one point, analysing hidden meanings and he got all the literary devices–juxtaposition and red herrings and so on–without any real problems. And he was good with writing research papers, as much as he loathed actually doing the research. Creative writing threw a wrench in all that because he could stare at a blank document for hours, writing and rewriting the first sentence and never being satisfied because it just… sucked. He sucked at describing things, never mastered all that flowery language or could wax poetics at the drop of a hat, it was just not his thing and he had abandoned trying about when he was a sophomore in high school when he was given an assignment and all he managed to write was, "It was a cloudy and rainy day, down by the bay, or so they say."

He failed that assignment and many like it.

So, to try and accurately come up with words to describe Castiel's tattoos was difficult, to say the least.

It was huge. That was a start in describing what it looked like. And it was a specific type of bird–a phoenix, that was it! The phoenix was situated on the left side of his chest, one of its wings spanning out all the way to his right and the other falling along his left arm and Dean imagined if he stuck his arm out, both wings would be stretched out impressively. It was a certain style of tattoo called something, stroke, stroked? Brush stroked, yes, so it was different than other tattoos he saw before that were plain solid lines and shading or colouring. This seemed much more elaborate and with far more time devoted into getting it all right, from those wings, to how realistic it looked that it was about to swoop in and grab its prey, talons open and ready, to how its massive tail feathers trailed down to his ribs.

The most beautiful thing about it was the colour. The phoenix itself was black, but there was a mix of deep blues and pinks highlighting parts, the wings, the tail feathers in the style he knew was usually categorised as watercolour.

And oh, look at that, Castiel was not joking, he had nipple piercings, a barbell going horizontally through each one and to add to that, trailing his eyes down further, he saw he had hip piercings and his brain kind of short circuited at that point, unable to process any more of the tattoos he saw, because, really, he just sort of figured out the guy banging everyone with skills many would love to have, the guy that opened the door and was ready to charm the pants–and all other clothes–off of him like it was his birthright, was the very same guy he had been freaking out over if he was safe and where he could possibly be.

The mechanic had no idea how much time passed since the door opened and Castiel greeted him to when the other actually grabbed his hands and led him into his room. That was probably because as soon as the door was closed, he was pressed up against it. Not hard or anything, he realised, but well enough that he could feel the rise and fall of the man's chest against his own, one of his legs slotted in between his and okay, this was not where he was planning to go at all and he stared wide eyed at the other who just had that same easy smile as the hand not on his hip went to his cheek before he huffed out a laugh.

"You didn't have to make an appointment, you know… I would have seen you free of charge."

His breath was minty and Dean was grateful for that, he was laughably grateful for that. Before he could ask what the hell he was doing even charging people or seeing people in the first place, lips were on his and this was not how he would have liked it to go at all. Sure, it felt nice, it cleared up a lot of his pondering on if the man's lips were chapped or looked that way–they just looked that way, as a side note–and Castiel was definitely on board with it all–oh, he also had a tongue piercing, he never saw it before–and when the kiss ended, he was a little more sure that enthusiasm of his client's was not all show, but this was… wrong.

"Ah, just–can you–wait," Words fumbled out of his mouth as he lifted a finger to stop him from kissing him again, smiling a little on the side of anxious and laughing awkwardly because he knew his way around a person's body, judging by how his leg was pressing into a very sensitive area, which was a tad distracting, as he tilted his head and waited as told.

"Yes? Do you have a certain request? I'd normally charge more for anything extra, but I can make an exception."

There was what was so wrong about all this.

Gently setting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him away, keeping him at an arm's distance, he took this time to look around the room now. It was a mirror to his own, though completely cleared of any personal belongings, even the duffle bag Castiel had taken with him.

"Cas, where the hell have you been?"

"Buried dick deep in the previous client's ass."

Okay, that was not what he wanted to know. He probably looked disturbed at the excessive information because Castiel added, "I had a condom and still cleaned up thoroughly after. Obviously."

Obviously, of course.

"No, I mean, the past days. You left, to get your family. Where are they?"

"I don't know. Underground, maybe. Oh, or in a treehouse. Did I tell you, Jimmy's afraid of heights. Won't get in Claire's unless she's about to cry and Amelia scolds him. I drag him up there myself, can you believe that?"

Dean blinked. Then he thought. And thinking was a horrible, horrible thing, it brought up this conclusion he wished with everything he had was wrong.

"Cas… are you high?"

And that little smile was even more horrible.

"Generally, yeah."

Dean was struck dumb for a moment or two, staring at this man who he had worried over for days, thought the worst had happened to him, had been searching for a fucking drug dealer just to get some sort of lead on him, high off his ass and fucking people for money. He was actually proud of the fact that he did not beat the guy into a pulp on principle, that all he did was shout.

"What the fuck are you thinking! You were clean, Cas! You were fucking clean, why the fuck did it seem like a good idea to start again? This isn't going to keep your family safe, this is just spitting in the face of all they did for you, you thoughtless asshole!"

Castiel had remained in place until his last words, at which point his eyes narrowed and his hand shot out to grip his jaw painfully tight as he closed the space between them, blunt fingernails stabbing into his skin and he brought their foreheads together. When he spoke, it was soft, a harsh contrast to how he was shouting and by that reasoning, his own words should have had more to them, right? More emotion, more threat and assertion, more of a "going to make you piss your pants-esque" quality.

Right?

"Do not presume to know everything about what I do, Dean. It is quite… rude."

Yeah, he was wrong.

It was fucking chilling to hear Castiel speak like that, all eerily calm on the exterior but still promising more misfortune than he cared to think of for his apparent incompetence to understand this oh so simple concept in his own head, especially when not even a minute ago he was all for likely getting it on right at the door and admitted he would do it under no obligation other than he wanted to. He stared into those dilated pupils, not exactly finding anything he recognised and then the other blinked, gave another throaty laugh and smile, and pressed their lips together briefly before he moved away.

And there on his back was another tattoo, a large set of wings, each feather with an insane amount of detail that probably burnt a hole through Castiel's wallet and he thought was worth how realistic they looked. What made him frown about it, though, was that where the wings seemed to have sprout from his back, there was blood. Or, tattoo ink that was meant to be blood, as if they were damaged, or someone attempted to tear them out, and it ran down the feathers and it looked too damn real. Right above the wings there was a date, one he had to squint at to look at.

_09-10-98_

That… was not at all helpful.

He should probably stop staring at it and not look at the ones on his arms or anywhere, it was distracting.

Anyway, back to the present, Dean was sure he was going to get whiplash if Castiel's mood kept jumping all over the place. With Sam, it was a little easier, in the sense that he knew what he was using and also he found him in usually the same state as always. Except the last time, but that was not the point nor was it something he wanted to think about. Castiel, on the other hand, he had no idea what he used, when he used it and how much he used. The mechanic did not make it his job to learn all the illicit drugs in the world, all he really knew about them as a whole was that they were bad, they were addictive, and they made people do really stupid things. So, when it came with how to deal with Castiel, who had wandered to the bed and was no doubt ready to get the show on the road, Dean decided asking questions and not having outbursts would help.

"Okay. So, if this will keep them safe, how? Because, man, I got to tell you, cash for ass and popping whatever it is you're on, I can't see how that's doing it."

"Oh, Dean. Isn't it obvious?" No, obviously, it was not, but Castiel had spread out his arms already like this place was his explanation and then crowded his space again, eyes wide and smiling like a goddamn maniac, "Cash for ass, heh, as you say, is my end of the deal. A transaction, really, exchange of goods and skills. I fuck, he protects. It's not as lavish as when I first worked for him, I know. It's because he 'can't play favourites,' can you believe that? Hah, me, a favourite?"

Dean was missing something on why this could possibly be so hilarious, the other stifling his laugh. He looked long and hard at the other before asking, "Where do the drugs come into play in all this? And which kind?" That seemed to have Castiel deflate some, shoulders sagging as he thought before perking up once again and flapping his hand like it was no big whoop.

It was a very big whoop, damn it.

"Part of the deal and it's a really good part of it, did you know? He wanted to get me started right away on meth again," Dean almost choked on air with how casually he mentioned it, like meth was something everyone did for the kicks, but Castiel raised his hand to stop him from saying anything, "Ah-ah-ah. I said wanted. Nice, isn't it, that I didn't, he didn't make me. Mm, I forgot how much I missed a good dose of amps. It's _amazing."_

Amps…

Amphetamines?

"Jesus Christ, Cas…"

Maybe he was wrong, but amphetamines were about a step away from meth. And Castiel was only gone three days, he was already in deep, what was to stop him from actually taking that step? What was to stop Alastair–he was positive it was him–from giving it to him? Perhaps he had been clean for years already and the effects of the drugs had been ever more potent because of that. Human bodies worked that way, right? Tolerances eventually faded with time, so what used to be normal to people at one point could be overwhelming at another, if sufficient time passed? Or the environment could impact how potent it was to a person because of some conditioning, opponent process or something, he was told years ago with Sam.

"Cas, we got to get out of here. You have to trust me, I can protect you, protect your family. I'll get them set up in Lawrence with a family friend, they'll be safe. Just–"

There was a knock on the door and both of them looked over, though Castiel moved first and seemed more aware of what was going on than Dean was. The mechanic was still letting everything sink in and watched the other open the door, positioning himself the same way as when he answered for Dean and something about that set him off. Or maybe it was the slimy little douchebag that took one look at Castiel and was already reaching out to touch his chest, right where the phoenix was, the man intercepting and smiling as he leant down–douchebag was a few inches shorter–just shy of making contact.

"Touching there is extra, good sir. But I can make it well worth your while."

It was probably how douchebag grinned perversely and gave some answer and question about how much to have his lips on him in a very crude way but Dean stopped listening in favour of rushing over, pulling Castiel back and punching that douchebag right in his wrinkled, disgusting face. He actually knocked the guy down to the floor with his hit and he gave no shits whatsoever, standing in the doorway, listening to him bitch and moan about his poor nose, his poor face, it was ruined and Dean sneered when he pushed himself up and promised he would pay.

"Bub, I did your face a favour and now I'm doing you another by telling you to get the fuck out of here this instant."

Something changed in douchebag's demeanour and he looked petrified now, fumbling over apologies and insisting he meant no disrespect and to keep the money already paid as a good faith gift before booking it the hell out of there. Only after that and calming down did he feel arms slither around his waist and a chin on his shoulder, Castiel sighing into his neck and words mumbled.

"There goes a good client. Though, I suppose now he'll pay more the next time around. He must have thought you were my guard for the night. Hah. Silly, really, because if you were, you wouldn't be in my room."

As soon as Dean felt those hands wandering down and lips on his neck, he tapped at his hands to stop and shimmied away from his grasp, turning to face him and now out of the room again, which made it surprisingly easier to gather his thoughts and he even noticed that along the phoenix's neck, amidst the blue that looked awfully like fire bursting from the bird, another little date was written.

_06-09-04_

Not important right now, not even close.

"Damn it, I told you, you don't have to keep doing this! We can still fix this, Cas. And what the hell are you talking about, guard? Is someone here with you? Can they take me to Alastair?"

Dean saw Castiel open his mouth to speak, look at something behind him and despite being drugged up, he still managed a pretty good look of horror.

"No, wait–!"

That was all Dean got to hear and the last thing he saw before feeling a blow and everything blacking out. Castiel caught him before he crumpled unceremoniously to the ground, keeping him somewhat still standing by letting all his weight rest on him and frowning at the man who had caused this, a larger set man that loomed over Castiel some, thick arms crossed and brow raised in silent questioning.

"You did not have to do that."

"He interrupted business."

"And he wants to talk to Alastair. Take me to him."

"Your appointments are not complete."

Regardless of all however many pounds of Dean Winchester he was supporting and the good maybe five inches this particular guard had over him, he shuffled closer, squinting at him and daring him to keep him there. This man was nothing, he could get rid of him in the blink of an eye. He may be viewed now as nothing more than a druggie whore to this man, but he would be damned if the title of druggie whore did not get him more entitlement, more so because he had been around the block before, he knew how this worked, he remembered. He had brought in more than enough the past two days, more than any of the other workers, more than enough that he could sacrifice a few hours to make sure Dean got to Alastair and this insignificant little ant did not try and touch him.

The guard finally scoffed and instructed him to hand Dean over, to which he shook his head at and offered the solution, "Grab my stuff, in the bathroom, I'll be in the car," and fuck anyone who said he could not do that. It was a bit of a struggle in the beginning to get Dean over to the car, a black sedan, Castiel trying to carry him a few different ways before settling on carrying him in his arms, fiddling with the back door until it opened and getting him in before sliding in himself. Resting the mechanic's head on his lap, his fingers ran through his short hair, hearing the guard come in, throwing his small bag–he asked for another, the duffle bag should stay safe from this, he had thought in the beginning–in the passenger's seat and leaving the motel.

Castiel could care less if he was fuming about being ordered around or whatever it was that crawled up his ass and died. He was more focused on allowing his thumb to glide along the splattering of freckles across Dean's face, entranced by the abstract patterns he could create with them, how they seemed endless, and when he let his hand move down to graze his lips and trace his jaw, he smiled. And he bent down and allowed their lips to touch briefly, murmuring softly against them.

"I promise I'll protect you."

\---

The thing about drugs that no one ever truly understood was that they were, in simple terms, like dislocating a joint. It was disrupting good judgment from choice, from thought, from everything, really. Now, people understood it made people shift priorities, it consumed their thoughts mercilessly and that was true.

Why, Alastair would have no business is that was not true.

And that was good for them, gold star, their minds could grasp that concept. But they thought it like a disease, an illness they could cure and that was where they were wrong. Whilst illnesses, once being introduced to the body, remained imprinted in the brain and system in case it tried to come back, to fight it off once again, drugs were nothing like that. No matter how well one prepared, thought they could stave off the supposed "disease," the fact of the matter was that once the drug entered the system when a person was supposedly cured, it ripped right through all the defences, received no resistance from the blood brain barrier, and went along its merry way.

So, no, drugs were not like an illness, to him.

They were more comparable to the dislocation of joints because if, say, a person's shoulder was dislocated, it is meant to be set back in place and allowed to rest, to heal. Sometimes, people let it and no muss, no fuss, it heals up and life goes on. Other times, people refuse to be set back and go about like it never happened, they do not rest, and that aggravates the shoulder.

Alastair preyed on people like that.

Because those were the people who he could ensnare in his trap, with carefully spun words to lure them further and further in. These people were the people that kept popping out that shoulder of theirs, again and again, never stopping to rest, never considering the long term effects of it. What one of those long term effects was, in short, was the fact that in comparison to someone who never had their shoulder dislocated, all they required was a sharp tug and pop it went. The other person would require more force, more effort, but not them.

The more one's shoulder dislocated, the easier it was to get it to happen again.

Therefore, drugs could not be like an illness. Illnesses, once cured, tended to strengthen the system, provide the information of it in case it came by again. Dislocated joints only weakened over time and frequency, breaking down defences. And dislocation of good judgement, the easier it came, the easier Alastair got what he wanted.

It had been eleven years, already, since he last saw Castiel Novak, since the then nineteen year old had come in, head held high, and told him he was clean. Eleven years since he tossed him aside, telling him he could find another way to provide income for his family and pay whoever's tuition he was saving up for. Eleven years since Castiel Novak had gaped, then glared at him before leaving, never to be seen again.

Until now.

He knew Castiel was in town not even an hour after he arrived. Alastair was not uninformed, he heard the news, saw it and checked it himself. There was no doubt in his mind that Castiel had remained clean all these years.

However, someone like him, he was special, carried a certain set of skills and charm when in the right setting and under the proper influence, he could go far in this trade, far beyond a simple sex worker. Maybe Castiel never realised that potential, though Alastair certainly did. It was the whole reason he kept him close back then, gave him the best, and he was so close to sealing the deal, to preventing the joints from ever being set back in place.

Then his family finally stepped in.

Well, he supposed not all the blame could go solely to them. Part of it was his own impatient nature. The boy had come to him, brought by his daughter, at the age of sixteen. Almost seventeen, two months off, but so angry and lashing out already, like a caged animal. Meg had taken a liking to him once she found him smoking a blunt at one of her spots and wheedled out his reason for being so mad, all regarding his family of two others. And Alastair looked at this sixteen year old, all pierced up and with wild blue hair, matching those eyes of his that had an unquenchable fire as he spat out some brash thing at him about staring and he liked what he saw.

He gave him a chance, then, asked him what he had taken in the past or if he only smoked, learning all he needed to know before sending Meg to get him something. It started off slow, gradually the increasing and the dislocation became more of a permanent thing. So confident was he, that he had moved on with the last step, a step up from the amphetamines he was so fond of.

It was too soon.

Too soon, too strong, too high, maybe he mixed it with something else, there were many possibilities but whatever it was, Castiel had a bad reaction to the methamphetamine and he was whisked away by his family, the line drawn and ultimatum presenting itself to the teenager. Either his family or this new one he found.

Castiel had chosen his family.

And that was that, he had walked away, stopped buying, stopped everything and he was worthless to him clean. Alastair knew businesses sometimes had these types of failures, not large enough to put a chink in it, but enough that it was a shame to see the potential profit lost. Which was why it was so exciting to learn how poor Castiel Novak had gotten tangled up with the issues of a drug circle in LA, was on the run with one Dean Winchester, and now back in his beloved hometown to seek out his family.

It was opportunity and he would take it.

Personally, Alastair could not care less for Lilith and Azazel than he already did. They were a bit… _dramatic,_ for his taste, honestly. Such a big hullabaloo and resources poured into one little insignificant boy. They tried to keep under wraps most details of their little slip up, of pitiful Ruby and how this one boy posed such a threat to them. And it was hilarious that when they tried to squash him like a gnat, prove they were still strong, better than him, what did he do? Dean Winchester escaped and made a laughingstock of their attempts.

That was the problem with those situated in big cities like Los Angeles, they had this inflated sense of ego and it was sad, pathetic, made them careless. Alastair, he liked to believe he rose above that, content with his stable position in Pontiac that did extend further, but his main business was here.

The only good thing Azazel and Lilith gave him in this was driving Castiel right back into his arms and not caring what he had to do to keep his family out of this, the same family he chose over him, the family that he loved with all his dear, big heart.

Of course Alastair took advantage of that, it was business.

The spike in his profit these past days alone told him it was the best decision he could make and the efforts he had to put in were far more then worth it. After Castiel had snorted the line the first day, he also mentioned what had happened at his brother's house and Alastair sent it to be taken care of, everything cleaned and bodies taken away to send a message.

Azazel and Lilith should have received it by now, every single itty bitty chopped up piece and his note regarding the Novak's. They were the dramatic kind, so Alastair gave them something dramatic. To be courteous of their preference, of course.

That alone would keep them protected, but Castiel did not have to know all the details, not until the dislocation was permanent. Right now, he would just bide his time, in this very quaint little condo he liked to reside in from time to time, reading his book and listening to Meg rummage around the kitchen for something good to eat. This came to an end when he heard the door unlock and open, two set of footsteps and there was Gerald and Castiel, who happened to be carrying a semi-conscious Dean Winchester.

This night became very interesting all of a sudden.

"He wants to talk to you."

"I don't think he's up to talk to anyone, angel. Take him to your room, I'll send Meg."

Castiel left and when the door was shut, he turned to Gerald for explanation.

"He chased off a client, I was bringing him here and the boy wouldn't leave him alone."

"Hm… seems you struck the wrong person, dear Castiel's attached to him."

"Think he's his boyfriend or at least warms his bed?"

Alastair set his book down, considering what his daughter said when she came into view with a sandwich, "There's something there. I want you to figure it out. And give him another hit, darling."

Meg took another bite of her sandwich, free hand feeling the plastic baggie in her jacket, wondering aloud, "Father, are you sure? I mean, he's great this way and I'm keeping him fed and all, but this isn't his normal vice. He's doing well this time around, but won't too much kill him?"

Alastair hummed in thought. That was something he considered, especially since he had only started using days ago. But businesses, when they made investments, there was a certain risk in doing so. They could either succeed or fail, that was the way it went.

Castiel was an investment as of now.

"Keep giving him the meth."

If he died, then it was just a failure and he would move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky, sneaky Alastair, with his plans. It was probably already obvious that meth was what drove Castiel off the edge with all the references to it, what messed him up when he was flying and Jimmy had to go get him, but there is a little more to it, not just the meth alone and that was a mistake on his part. Now, will it kill him, will he be able to stop, that'll be coming up soon.
> 
> And Dean will be seeing more of Castiel's tattoos soon, other than the two pointed out as the largest of them all. I just love watercolour and 3D tattoos, I'm actually going to get two of my own soon to add to one I already have, so they made an appearance, they're just so beautiful. The significance of the dates will be touched on as well. Any guesses as to what they mean?


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is going pear shaped and no one is doing a damn thing to stop it. At least, Dean thinks that, and so does Jimmy, until he gets a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to do it, finish this chapter within the 1st for the publication date. So helpful that a lot was already done. 
> 
> This was actually written, the second half or so, on the time I was on the bus or waiting for class to start, as a sort of stress reliever. Because today was just terrible, so many phone calls and during class, asking me to do this or buy that and I had an exam that by the ninth long answer, my hand was cramping and I just wanted to write "because I said so and I'm always correct" as an answer and ugh, lots of stuff. 
> 
> So, downtime was writing this and I hope I caught all the typos and this makes sense, it made sense in my sleep-deprived mind, haha;;
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Castiel settled Dean into his bed, hearing someone come in and not paying much attention to them. Their footsteps were soft, so it was probably Meg, and she was wonderful, she was, but not enough so that he would look away from Dean, who seemed awake but not awake, disoriented from the hit still. The fact that he was awake was good, the drive here was not long, a minute, maybe two–it was for the sake of appearances they had the car–and he was already waking when inside the house. That meant no fatal damage was done, something about if out too long, it fucked the brain up, he learnt in a class long ago.

That guard was rude, whatever his name was, he would have to ask for another one.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hand holding his and lips pulling up into a smile without his knowledge. Dean was a great guy, he was a really great guy, that Azazel and Lilith were stupid to think him bad or whatever shit they thought of him that had him on the run. But, now he was here, with Castiel, he could keep him safe. There should have been a thought there, that this actually was not safe, not here, but Castiel was too busy marvelling at how it felt when they held hands and he should have noticed this before. Dean's hand was not baby soft or anything, he would not expect them to be as he used them a lot to repair car, not planes, he said, but they were not as callous as he might have thought.

"Clarence, come here. Father wanted me to give you something for your trouble."

Finally looking away, he saw what Meg had set up, another one of those neat little lines and his nose scrunched at the sight. He was good at snorting, had done it before and did not fumble like those trying it for the first time, though that did not mean he very much liked it. Amphetamines, he liked just knocking back the pills, quick and easy, that was it.

And why was he getting another hit right now?

Well, that should have been his thought. The prospect of what would come if he did have it overrode any concerns and he started getting up when he felt a squeeze to his hand. Dean had seen what it was as well and was now shaking his head, "Cas… don't…"

"Don't" what?

Leave?

He must have thought he was leaving the room after, back to finish the night, and Castiel smiled, kissed his hand and let go, assuring him, "I'll be right back." Making his way to the small coffee table, he repeated the process he had accustomed himself to, ready to take it in one go, which he would have had it not been for the thump behind him. He had veered off the line in his haste to turn around, leaving about half and the last bit that went in felt like it went the wrong way, making his sniffle and rub at his nose.

Gross, it was going to drip now.

That would have to wait because what had made the noise was Dean, who was now on his knees and trying to push himself up. Maybe that hit had done more to him or he was not used to it, whatever it was had him going over to him and helping him up.

"You shouldn't exert yourself. I said I wasn't leaving."

"Alastair…"

Right, he wanted to talk.

"You can talk to him in the morning. Rest now."

After some resistance, Castiel got him back into bed, even removed his boots and his jacket this time around before he got under the covers. He sniffled a few times, feeling that nasty drip and tilted his head back, trying to ease it and then he just said fuck it and tilted all the way to the point where Meg looked upside down in her spot and he gave a slow smile.

"Didn't mean to fuck it up, you know that?"

Meg glanced at Dean, who seemed intent on keeping his narrowed gaze on her and the remaining powder on the table before shrugging and cleaning everything up.

"You haven't done it in awhile, that's all. I'll come back, later. You two lovebirds have fun."

That said, she saw when she was not wanted there and until the bit he did snort kicked in and Dean was asleep, Meg would likely not be getting any answers from Castiel, not without being interrupted again. She took note of how easily Castiel accepted that, how he removed his own boots and slid into bed beside him–the benefits of having a queen sized mattress, amongst others–shuffling closer and either Dean was already knocked out or did not care.

Interesting.

"Night."

"Night, Clarence."

A very interesting thing indeed.

Castiel found lots of things interesting, too, actually. As he was this close, he peered over at Dean, who he imagined was still awake, based on his breathing, not enough light to see anymore, and he thought it over about two more seconds before deciding and placing his head on the other's chest, one arm around him. He listened to the thump, thump, thump of Dean's heartbeat, not quite expecting much of anything because he had backed away the last time he tried to kiss him, told him to wait and that was confusing to him. Probably read things wrong or something, which was sad, because he was pretty sure it was obvious what he thought, what he felt, things of that nature. So, the arm shifting was probably going to push him away, as much as he did not want to go, and he did tighten his grip a bit. Except, the arm only wrapped around him, the thump, thump, thump going on a little quicker, not too much, but he grinned and settled in, actually smelling the other now and he burst into a fit of giggles.

"What're you laughing about?"

"You smell like _oatmeal."_

Oatmeal, of all things! How hilarious this was. All that bravado and badassery and he smelt like oatmeal, the maple kind, and it was cute, it was downright fucking adorable and Dean just grunted at that.

"It's good for the skin and it's cheap. What about you? You smell like some kind of fruit."

"Black current and fig. Mine isn't so cheap, nine dollars, actually. But I like it."

"We get out… I'll buy you all the damn nine dollar body wash you want."

"Deal."

Castiel did not think much of the first part, about getting out, thinking it was just out of the room, out into the streets and to a local Target or Walmart or something. And he got that, sometimes he could stay in his room or any particular room for a very long time after taking a hit. Meg could testify to that, even, being the one he shared a bed with during those days. These last two days, she did still do that, claiming she wanted to see what more he had learnt over the years and that he had "gotten even hotter" since she saw him last, so why the hell not. It was great, the sex, most likely made so mind-blowing because of the amps, but he often wondered what it would be like if it was not with Meg, not with clients, with someone just… nice.

Dean was nice, Dean was great, a great, great guy and he was here with him, did that mean he was his, of course he was his, anything and everything he wanted was his, that was just how it went, except what was his was now asleep and that was a shame, he really wanted to burn off all of this, he wanted to do stuff, not just lay here, it was driving him insane, he needed to move, to keep moving, before he popped.

At the very least, he moved out of bed as carefully as he could and practically ran the small distance to the door, exiting the room and going down the hall to the last one, knocking on the door and hopping from one foot to another as he waited for an answer, knocking again two seconds later because hurry up, what was taking so long, he needed this door open now, needed to do this now.

As soon as the door did open, all Meg was able to get out was, "What no–" before Castiel got up in her space, grabbed her face and smashed their lips together, forcing them both further into the room. She just barely was able to get the door to close before they fell back on the bed, his hands wandering down to grab her shirt and tug it off, breaking apart for the moments it took and chucking it away before his lips were on her chest.

That was a lot faster than she expected, it must have been how soon he had some more.

"Not that I'm complaining… but-fuck-what about your boyfriend?"

She got a muffled, "Asleep," as he continued to kiss down, his hands on her chest and she went with it, no reason not to, reaching back to unhook her bra for easy access.

Thankfully, there was still a hell of a lot of lube and the like, so she would be sore, but not brutalised down there for how many times they would no doubt go at it, more than in the past, and she pinned it on the meth.

Not that she was complaining, as she said.

Dean was full of complaints, on the other hand, as soon as he woke up in the morning. His first one was the dull throb at the back of his neck, he was going get whatever bastard did it and probably left a bruise. The next was he had no idea where this room was. The last and most important was that Castiel was not there with him. He distinctly recalled the ATC snuggling up next to him and he let him because he knew he would not be snorting anything if he remained there. He had tried to get to him and stop him when he did last night and succeeded to an extent, but was still a bit dazed.

Not dazed enough to imagine Castiel being with him there and mentioning how he smelt like oatmeal.

Groaning as he sat up and searched for his boots, he slipped them on and stood up, waiting for the rush to pass before heading out of the room. He lingered there for a bit, eyes roaming around and making sure no one was going to pop out of nowhere and hit him again then went down the hallway. Going down the hallway, the bathroom door was open, as was one of the door to a room that was empty. At the end of the hallway, there was a door closed and he heard some noise coming from behind it, a familiar chuckle and so he closed his fingers around the doorknob and opened the door.

And he really regretted it.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

The door was shut again and his eyes stayed clenched shut for a few seconds, like that was all the kind of brain bleach he needed to get rid of that image. Not that he did not appreciate the female body, every body was a good body, and he was not against people doing to do or anything like that when they wanted and for reasons they wanted, it was their body to do with as they pleased, he had no damn problem with that. Just… it was sudden, the sight of this brunette–Meg, maybe that was her and that was a bit awkward of a first meeting–on the bed, clearly having a grand old time being eaten out by Castiel did surprise him.

The very fact that Castiel was doing that to begin with also made him angry, upset, hurt, something? It was something and he tried not to think too much on it. Maybe Dean was just another good potential lay or something, that was why he said what he did last night but he was the one who stopped him, who preferred to ask questions and figure this all out instead of getting it on, who got bonked on the head and still tried to keep him from screwing himself over with drugs, who came all this way to make sure he was safe and risked exposure, but no big deal, not at all.

No big fucking deal.

"A bit rude to walk in without knocking, wouldn't you say?"

Starting, he spun on his heel and saw an older man at the other end of the hallway, taller than him, by the looks of it. And damn smug, or maybe that was just how he had sounded with that drawl of his that sounded so off being here. It was probably just Dean being biased about it all and that was alright by him, taking a few steps forward cautiously, wary just in case.

"Alastair."

"Dean, Dean, Dean. We have much to discuss."

And that was it, he turned and walked back to wherever he came from, like the presumptuous ass he was, expecting him to follow. The bitch of the thing was that Dean did follow because what else was he supposed to do? He spent the last three days searching and now here he was, with nothing more to be done than to go to the living room where Alastair was seated comfortably in an armchair and take a seat himself on the couch, on the far left end because it made him feel a little better that he was closer to some form of an exit.

It seemed smart to do.

Because Alastair may not have fit that super scary, threatening just by being there stereotype of drug bosses, he looked like he could have been an average, honest working man. But, then again, Dean never judged on appearances alone, he knew how deceiving they could be. Lilith never looked threatening and there was no doubt in his mind that she had been the one to kill Ruby personally. So, he was careful, he watched Alastair, suspicious of everything he did, even something as innocent as pouring tea into his teacup.

"Tea?"

"No."

Probably poisoned. Or drugged. Or something.

"It's usually said 'no, thank you.'"

"And I'm usually not knocked out by some asshole you stuck on Cas."

Dean still did not trust the tea even when the man drank it himself, which was paranoia, perhaps. He gave a chuckle and shake of his head as he set his cup down, everything he was doing making the mechanic want to throw his stupid tea in his face and punch him. It was just infuriating being here, with him, knowing he got Castiel started on this again, he was doing that to a lot of youth, most likely, corrupting them at a young age and then sucking all life out of them until they ceased to exist.

"Gerald is a bit on the more, mm, violent side, as you might say."

"Gerald is a dick, but that's not why I'm here."

"Yes, you're here for Castiel, aren't you?"

"I am. So, if you know that, I'll just take him now and we can all walk away like none of this ever happened." Of course, it was never that easy and this smug bastard smiled at his suggestion, looking like he was about to chastise him like a child who wanted another cookie or something equally childish and he was not going to have that, "Look. I know he came to you, made a deal, everything. But he doesn't need you or your so-called help, I can take care of him and his family. So, forget the damn deal, you don't have to protect them, he doesn't have to go do what he does, it all goes back to how it was, no one owing anybody anything."

It was not like the damn thing was a sealed deal, contract and all. Alastair still had that damn look though, as if he was better than him when he was not. He helped his brother get clean, get away from people like him, he was going to do the same for Castiel, not fuck him over six ways to Sunday because it was convenient for him.

"Well, even if I wanted to, that's not up to you. The choice is Castiel's and I have to tell you, he seems satisfied with our agreement."

"He's like that because you're drugging him up!"

"He had a choice, he could have said no, I wouldn't have stopped him. And I only made him one time as a test of his loyalty, just one tiny taste. He's the one who has been so delighted to continue, so maybe you don't know dear Castiel as well as you thought you did." That stopped Dean in his tracks, struggling to come up with what to throw back at that. It was just the drugs, it had to be, the high, the rush, that was it. Castiel would never in his right mind go back to them and this man kept talking, "After all, how could you? You've known him for a few days. I've known him for years, I made him, he would be dead without me."

That was fucking it.

"Listen here, you son of a bitch, he's worked hard to undo what you did. He went to school, he got a job, he can even fly a fucking plane and that sounds pretty damn hard to me. He did all of that without you, so don't you dare say you 'made' him, he made himself, he did it all that himself."

"Then you ruined him, didn't you?"

Dean clenched his jaw at the accusation, short nails digging into his palm because what could he say to that? No? Because, it sure as hell seemed like he had messed up his life. If he never collided with him, trying to get away from Lilith's goons, he never would have taken him away, never had him along in City Hall, never have had this catastrophic chain reaction that led them both here, Castiel high as the fucking clouds and Dean sitting across from a drug boss, arguing about choices and letting him go.

"I am protecting him. From assholes like you."

He was protecting him. He fucked up, fucked up real bad, but he was trying to make it right. Dean was working on clearing their names, on keeping them safe, on doing everything so they could both carry on with their lives, how it was before all this.

He was doing the right fucking thing, not killing him like Alastair was.

Whatever more that could be said on the subject was not as Castiel wobbled into sight–dressed now in low slung jeans and a henley he recalled picking out himself–Dean's immediate response standing up though he made his way to him without any problem, grinning when Dean held him steady by his arm and kissing him–thank God, he smelt like some sort of face wash and toothpaste–after the customary greeting of, "Hello, Dean." He plopped down on the couch and urged him to follow, he did for the sole fact that he did not trust the older man to be alone with him.

"Did you have your talk? Did I miss it?"

"I think we were just about finished, angel."

"No, we're not. You still haven't agreed to let us go with no problems."

Dean did not yet answer Castiel's questions that ran a mile a minute as his rested his head on his shoulder of, "Dean, what're you talking about? Are you talking about outside? We can go outside, it's nice outside. It's Sunday, church day, isn't that nice?" His focus was on how Alastair finished his tea, "Oh, tea, that's nice too, isn't it? Did you know the hundred and one most common uses for teabags?" And then how he set it down, chuckled and shook his head.

"That's because I'm not letting you. I could easily have you delivered to Lilith and Azazel, Dean. They're quite… eager to find you and what they'll do to you if they had you, mm… it would be a magical night. But. Since you're so important to Castiel here and I do care about his comfort and happiness, believe it or not, I'll take you in."

What?

Dean blinked, not quite believing what was happening, how everything led to this, with Alastair smiling too sick and twisted to be genuine, Castiel happily cuddled up to him and enraptured by their joined hands. The whole reason he was here was because of a drug circle, of bosses not liking what he was doing and where he was going with the information he had, they wanted his head and that bitch Lilith would probably hang it like a morbid trophy. And now here was another drug circle, with their boss, saying he would have not thought twice in handing him over, probably excited to see what they would do to him, but no, Castiel likes him, so now he was stuck with them, no real plan of escape besides the window he was next to that suddenly seemed too small to be successful in aiding him.

"Welcome to the family, Dean."

What the fuck was his life now?

Jimmy Novak asked the same thing. His lacked the swear word in it, of course, but the utter bemusement was no less. Possibly, it was even more. Less than a week ago, his life was as it always was. He woke up at seven, went out for a run, showered and got ready for work, had his coffee at eight, went to work, got home to his wife and daughter, and the general idea was probably understood then, his life was just that of an average middle age man with a family.

Then the news hit and he still remembered that he had burnt his hand some because he forgot to let go of the hot mug of tea he was holding that he had before bed as he watched the television, saw the footage, heard them talking about his brother the horrible way they were. After that, the news people and journalists popped out of the ground like daisies in spring, asking him what he thought, how he felt, was it true, stupid questions that aggravated him and he may have lost his temper a few times when he told them to get lost and they did not listen. It got to the point where he finally did talk to one, gave a bit of information and then left, thinking that was all there was to it.

Clearly, since he was relocated from his house to some small apartment and not allowed to leave unless someone was with him, someone he had no idea who they were, that was not all there was to it. There was also the whole issue he was grappling with that he had potentially bludgeoned a young man–boy, more like it–to his demise. Jimmy did not regret taking him down, he had heard the first scuffle and covered Claire's ears and told her to stay quiet the duration of it before instructing her to get her suitcase and hide under her bed. By that point, when he had reassured her nothing was going to happen, he peered out of the room and saw the boy there and he may not be one for violence, but he knew what a gun looked like, he did not live under a rock.

He had a gun and he was pointing it at his brother, he was intending to kill him, he all but said it bluntly. No more thought was put into it beyond grabbing a candlestick and charging right at him, tackling him down and incapacitating him.

It may have been a little much.

All of the adrenaline had worn off as he stared at the boy's face, all battered and bloody and he realised just how brutal he had been and if it were not for Castiel grabbing him, he would have kept on going, not giving a damn, he would have kept on going without an ounce of mercy.

That was terrifying.

All his life, Jimmy had been the passive one between the two. He had a sharp wit and made dry, sarcastic remarks, sure, but so did Castiel, they shared that. But Castiel was always the one who would stand up to bullies that would make fun of Jimmy's weight or how he dressed because it was too goody two shoes and so on. He stood up for him even when his personal beliefs were different–religion being the main thing, he knew Castiel stopped believing long, long ago, simply attended when still living at home or visiting for their mother's sake or to respect Jimmy's views–because he thought everyone was entitled to their opinion, but that entitlement did not grant them the right to make fun or slander other's beliefs. And he got into more than a handful of fights over him, once or twice his septum piercing or lip piercing even pulled or something and left him a bloody mess, though he would always smile and tell him it was okay, it was worth it because they learnt their lesson and he was safe from them now.

Castiel, still, was a gentle person. He used his words, he strategised, he did everything in his power to avoid fighting. Jimmy thought he was like that, too, even with his temper something shorter than his twin's in certain aspects. However, the difference was right there, in that moment. Because Castiel would have stopped, like he always did with the bullies, he planned and executed and it worked. He had just gone right at him and never stopped, he would have killed him, if he had not already, and that was mortifying, to know that was in him, that he had that capacity.

That he might not have been able to stop.

He never thought he was a perfect guy, he had his flaws. A sense of mercy and all that came with it, he at least thought he had that. Now he was shown that maybe he did not and that was wrong, so wrong, it was vile, detestable, it clashed too much with all he had learnt and was taught to practice in life. And then came Castiel, without a drop of concern for himself and effectively made it look as if he was the one who had disfigured the boy, telling him everything would be alright, he would make it alright, he would protect them. It was perhaps the shock that had him thinking that all those times Castiel ribbed that he was the older one–if only by twenty-one minutes–rang awfully clear and not at all a joke, it was something that was serious and present with him, that drive to protect.

Now he had gone and thrown the life he had away because of that need to protect.

To say that Jimmy was angry was, well, a huge understatement. When the initial shock wore off and then when he heard that horrible voice of Meg's, it sort of clicked what was happening and he was ready to stop Castiel, tell him no and they would find another way, yet he stopped himself.

_"I promise I'll come back."_

That was what he told him. Castiel was doing this because he wanted them safe and what good would it do to have a fit right then and there, get into an argument. He made him repeat it and he held him to it. It still did not make the anger go away. Anger at these people who made him do this, anger at Meg for existing, at whoever he went to talk to for existing, at these damn guards who took too damn long to get ready to go and his family may be under watch, but they were not going to miss church, at everything for being the way it was, and yes, a little at Castiel because he had not called, he was making sure they were safe, but who was making sure he was safe, that he was well taken care of, that he was not doing something reckless?

Jimmy had no idea and that was frustrating.

Around the time he nearly lashed out at one of the guards, a darker skinned man that stood about his height but was noticeably more muscular than him, refused to let him go on with the routine they had after church, which was take Claire to the park, whilst still on church grounds was around the time he realised he should try and control his temper. He liked to believe he did a good job, his insult was not too transparent nor was it too bad, it was only questioning his comprehension a little bit. Guard man made a call and then relented, they all got into the sedan and were at the park in minutes.

Something he was happy about, in all this, was that Claire seemed none the wiser to what was happening. Only seven years old, of course she did not yet know, she thought about simple things, like when were they going to get to the bridge and "Hurry up, daddy, you're walking too slow!" That had something to do with the slow pace Amelia was going at, she had been not too much aware or showing she was since this happened and it worried him. Whenever he asked if she was okay, she would say yes, distracted and thoughts elsewhere and sometimes she would ask how he thought Castiel was doing, what was he doing.

One night, when Claire was asleep, she had asked him, "Do you think we'll see him again? Castiel?"

"Of course we will, Ames."

The quieter question that followed, "… Do you really think he'll come back to us?" was a painful thing because he believed in his brother, he had faith in him, boatloads of it.

It was the potential drugs that might come into play he did not trust.

After Castiel had cleaned himself up, he had told them a lot of what he had done, including how he managed to get all the drugs he did without stealing anymore. The last time he stole was a hefty portion out of the college fund they had. It was not much, what they had, and that made it all the more obvious. And he admitted he knew he was going to get caught, but just did not care, he just wanted his fix. When he learnt of what he had done after that, first to replace the money he had stolen and then some, then drugs, then to help pay for bills, Jimmy was immensely grateful he had found a job around that same time to help out because he did not want to think of how much more his twin would have had to do if not.

Doing that again, for money, to pay for them to be taken care of, that was not the best thing, but it was considerably safer than drugs. Except, the two went hand in hand, from what he had told them both back then.

What if he really did start using again? What would that do to him? Would he have a reaction like his very last time using back then? Would it be worse? Would anyone help him or would he be left to die?

Damn it, there were so many questions and he had no one to ask.

He did not even have his brother there to tell him it was going to be okay.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I need to go to the bathroom and mommy isn't listening."

A look over at Amelia, sitting near the bridge and staring out at it, plucking absentmindedly at the grass around her told him she was too lost in thought to acknowledge anything around her. She had these moments over the years that he knew her, it was one of the things he found endearing when they met, how focused she could become, especially when it was something like a painting or a good book.

Not so endearing this time, given what she was probably thinking about.

Choosing to tend to his little girl right now, he smiled and took her hand, "How about I take you? Mommy's busy right now. She's thinking." Claire was so lovely, smiling back so brightly and agreeing, both of them walking towards the bathroom. Jimmy really did not think much of it, going into the woman's restroom and waiting by the sinks for her. In the end, everyone peed and relieved themselves, just males tended to stand and females sat, but all the same drains and system used when a person flushed and it was a free country, people had those birth given rights, people could go to whichever they felt more comfortable at and all that which should be common knowledge he thought, just the same as a parent could accompany their child to whichever bathroom the child chose to use if it made their child feel safe.

Park bathrooms sometimes were not always so safe, sadly.

"Jimmy Novak?"

Even more sadly, this may be one of those times.

Eyes snapping to the one who called his name, he immediately straightened up from leaning against the wall, arms uncrossing and at the ready. Like he anticipated, he never saw this female before in his life. She was shorter than him, of a small frame and had short, red hair and he would not let how she looked catch him off guard, moving to block the stall Claire was in and reaching into his slacks. He had a pencil, not the most effective tool, but good enough. That seemed to alarm her and she raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"Whoa, wait, wait. I'm–I'm a friend of your brother's, Castiel. Or Cas? Whichever you call him more. Erm, okay, this is a bad first impression. Uh, I'm Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. I sort of came here because Dean–he's a friend too, by the way–couldn't find him and I thought, 'Hey, I can find him!' Except, now Dean's gone, too, no Cas in sight and I finally caught you guys on camera, so… here I am."

Jimmy eyed her, still not believing her story because that sounded suspicious. Why would she be looking for them on camera? And what cameras was she looking at? He heard the toilet flush and door open behind him, though Claire remained behind him, he heard her question him and answered with a calm, "It's okay, baby. Just talking."

"Okay. I get it, scary drug people, I probably sound crazy to you. Uhm… oh, how about this? When you turned twenty-one, Castiel tricked you into doing Jell-O shots and you were so drunk, you started crying over how your arms weren't long enough to grab a star. And then you–"

"Yes, that's quite enough."

He would rather not relive that embarrassing day he realised his alcohol tolerance was nowhere near his brother's. Embarrassing memories aside, if this Charlie was a friend of Castiel's, then maybe she had a message from him or knew where he was. Moving aside and telling Claire to wash her hands, he carried on the conversation.

"So, what are you doing here?"

Charlie grinned at that, like she was waiting all this time for that one question to be asked of her and stood up a little taller, chest puffed out, and answered.

"I'm here to bust you all out."

It was her quest, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie to the rescue! She's definitely on board with making this her own little adventure, how bad can it be, right? She'll find out soon.
> 
> And Alastair is certainly not done with Dean, he's got his own plans, but he can play nice. For now. 
> 
> For Castiel, I looked through a lot of different people's personal experiences on how meth made them feel, specifically when they snorted since it all gives a different feeling, and I tried to make the time between when it kicks in and how long it lasts based on that, as well as his thoughts and actions and all. It was kind of vague, I think, his thoughts and what it made him feel but that was on purpose for the time being. 
> 
> And he's certainly now being open with how he feels about Dean, his inhibitions on that just sort of flew off. He even managed to look passed the meth for a moment in concern for him, that's important. Dean, well, he might be just a little hurt that he's still going off with Meg when he's there, and after what he told him, maybe that'll be brought up soon. He likes to believe they have a better connection, few days known or not.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments on what you thought. :D


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel are in quite a pickle and Charlie decides it is up to her to save them. And their situation may suck, it actually really sucks, but Dean finds a few positive things in the muck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, cool. I wasn't able to finish it all by the 3rd and my aversion to even numbers stopped me for posting it on the 4th. It's kind of just a filler chapter, I guess? I'm not sure what to call it. I hope you'll all like it, either way. 
> 
> I do apologise in advanced if updates are slow this next week or so. Students I tutor are freaking out because of midterms and work hours are horrible. I'm actually posting this during a slow time, but I guess that's what happens when it's two in the morning and all those in one's care are sleeping;;
> 
> I've realised that this story now has more chapters than Through Our Eyes and it's surprisingly discouraging when trying to keep going with that story, I've contemplated stopping it or deleting it altogether. I suppose that's unnecessary ramble here, my bad. 
> 
> If there are any typos, which there no doubt are, being typed on an iPhone, or you have any suggestions, feel free to comment. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :D

"'Bust us out?'"

"Dude, Cas was right, you can literally hear the air quotes. But, yeah. Charlie, to the rescue."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

Charlie only continued to smile, though it was pulled a little tighter when she was asked, a light laugh pulling itself out of her and he narrowed his eyes at her when no answer came, "You _do_ have a plan, right?"

"Yes… kind of, maybe, still in the works?"

This was great. Just great, fantastic, really. His one shot of a way out, to get to Castiel and then get out of here, his first contact with anyone outside of the rotating guards, and she had a "kind of, maybe, still in the works" plan. If he looked exasperated, that might convey a percentage of what he felt and he was glad to know that Claire could not see it, having finished washing and drying her hands but lingering behind him.

Stranger danger, all that, how it paid off in more ways than one.

"Well, I mean, I only just realised Dean was gone, give me a break! I've been working all night since then and whatever Cas did hasn't made you an easy guy to find or talk to!"

Jimmy supposed he should not be so difficult about this, it was misplaced to do so and Charlie really was trying, if she had found them, that meant a great deal to him. It was certainly one step closer than he was ten minutes ago and any step was to be thanked, along with being pushed more for, hopefully, another step.

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry, it's just all this. I can't tell you where Dean is, I don't actually know. But my guess is he's been caught by Alastair and his men, which means he's probably seen Cas, that's the whole reason we're here."

"He knows Alastair?"

Oh.

Oh, she did not know. Reasonable, seeing as if she was a friend of Dean's, Castiel only met her within the last few days and though it was a big part of shaping him and he was not necessarily ashamed of it all, he was not the type to spill his life story for the fun of it. That was his brother's life and normally, he would respect that, he would refuse to say a word on it. Between that and remaining here, his brother doing who knew what to keep them what he believed was safe, there was not much of a struggle to make a choice.

"Yes, he does, from years ago. It's a long story, but there's, uh, unconventional stuff there." To make his point, he took Claire's hand, glancing down at her and Charlie's gaze followed, mouth forming a silent "oh" before she nodded. She then sifted through the contents of the messenger bag, produced an iPhone and two strange looking packs the same size, and with no hesitation, stepped forward and slipped them into his trench coat's pockets.

"Ah, good, deep pockets. So, that's my phone, don't lose it, please. I'll use my backup."

Backup?

Who had a backup phone?

"And those chargers are in case it starts running low. When you're free, text me, call me, FaceTime, whichever, but I have to know everything that can help me get to Cas. I get to him, I get to Dean, and I'll get to you and your family, too."

"How do you expect to be able to? If you didn't see, those guys out there aren't the friendliest bunch."

"You just take care of your daughter and wife, I'll figure out the rest. And you should go out first, less suspicious."

Charlie watched the man look down at his daughter again, smile at her and then leave without another word. That could have gone a lot worse and she was happy it did not, that he did not just full on attack her or grab whatever it was he was reaching for. She was confident in being able to fend for herself in a more or less fair fight, but the guy was half a foot taller than her and she was not under the impression that he was any less capable than Castiel was or that he may be even more so with his little girl around.

Yes, that could have been a lot more painful.

As she waited for time to pass, she used the sink and washed her hands–which, ewh, gross, she felt less clean now having to touch that–and played around with her strap before exiting the bathroom and walking back to the car. Not her car, she left it back in some lot that would not tow it away if it hung out there a couple days or more, but then again, she figured since Dean was taken and all, he would not mind if she drove around in the Impala, right? He might even appreciate it, keep the engine strong, mechanic stuff, and maybe she did kind of take it because she wanted to see why Dean always talked about driving his baby like it was the single greatest thing on earth.

Of course, she would say she did it because it only seemed right. After not hearing from Dean all day yesterday, she was a little concerned, to say the least, given the circumstances. So, yes, maybe it was a little dangerous to drive over at eleven at night, but for a good cause and she really could not sleep. The Impala was right there, parked in front of a room with the door wide open and that was not reassuring at all.

Upon getting out–after psyching herself up that nothing was going to lunge at her–and going into the room, nothing looked off. No struggle, nothing. Well, some stuff looked moved, but deliberately and that was all she got from it. Dean's wallet was still on the little table, along with his keys and watch, so him leaving of his own free will was out of the question. Perhaps the only thing she had that was a little spark of hope in all this was that no matter how much she searched, even in his backpack–sorry for the invasion of privacy, it was necessary, she would tell him–there was no sign of his phone.

There was one of two things she could do. Either call or text the phone to try and locate it–and Dean–and pray that the bad guys did not have it, or finish what Dean started and add Dean into the equation of people to be saved.

In the end, she decided a little of both, just they did not go in that exact order.

First, she would continue looking for Jimmy Novak and her scrutiny paid off, she found him, talked to him and gave him a means of communication. Now, she was back at Dean's–would it be hers now, since she brought her stuff?–room and behind her laptop again, searching endlessly and getting nothing for her troubles. Snacking on some trail mix and some buttercrunch toffee–again, sorry, only a few were taken, since Dean seemed to especially like this can–Charlie hardly realised the time that passed by until her phone vibrated and she saw that that it was already eleven.

'Is this Charlie?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't say what number was your backup phone, I guessed. There's not much time before they come back, so I'll tell you what I can now.'

Oops.

Well, the name in the phone was fairly obvious, it must not have taken him too long and as soon as she finished reading the text, he was calling and she answered.

"For a phone to have a contact named 'Other Phone' seems to defeat the purpose of what it probably is meant to be."

Yeah, she should probably change that when she got it back.

"Anyway, here's what you need to know. Cas used to do drugs, got his money for it and to support our family by turning tricks, my wife and I got him out, now he's gone back to keep us safe from the people after Dean and him. Across the Livingston County Courthouse, you'll see a mural, a small diner next to it. Go there, and when asked what you want, ask for the coke and full meal."

"Oh-kay… ignoring the parts I'm still processing because, wow, unexpected, which is almost everything, how am I supposed to be sure that I'll get Cas?"

"Asking for him by name would be risky, he doesn't use his own. Uh… describe him, maybe? Tall, blue eyes, maybe saying piercings wouldn't be too suspicious, or tattoos." There was a short pause, some rustling, and then a very mortified, "… Oh my _God,_ I'm helping my brother get a client."

"Hey, whoa, wait a minute. Even if I was into guys, I wouldn't be doing anything. I just need to talk to him and figure out where he is and where Dean is. So, just be as specific but vague as I can be… and that should get me to him."

"Yes."

"Alright. I can do that. I think. I got where you are, by the way. Claire, is she going to school tomorrow?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I need you to go into the school, once school is over, say a meeting or something. I'll give you what you need to get out of there and tell you what to do."

"I believe I can do that."

"Good. Keep the phone charged and call if anything changes, okay?"

"I will." Another pause and more rustling, maybe he was hidden off somewhere or something, she really could not hear much on his side, "And, Charlie? Thank you, for all of this." That made the redhead grin and her response came naturally, a little joke to try and lighten up the mood, which seriously needed it.

"The Queen's got to look out for her handmaiden and new guard's family."

"What?"

It would have helped if he knew what he was talking about.

"Uh, it's–never mind. You're welcome."

She caught Jimmy shouting, "Nothing, Amelia! Just hit myself looking for something." And then some more shuffling, so he must have pocketed the phone without hanging up in his haste and that was a bit strange to her as she ended the call for him. Were husband and wife not meant to tell each other everything, reassure each other, all the things a happy married life entailed? Not her business, not really, and thinking about it would not help any of them out. Searching for the place would help them and it was a two minute drive there, one minute to park and find the mural with the diner right next to it and about ten standing across from it, mentally rehearsing what she would say over and over and thinking of what possible things to say if it went off the small transcript Jimmy gave her then another three minutes counting repeatedly the money she had withdrawn from a nearby ATM, the exact amount the man texted her that would be necessary.

Okay, now or never.

How hard could it be?

 

\---

 

No doubt, not as hard a time as Dean was having trying to make his point to Castiel.

"… I'm just saying, Cas, Alastair doesn't exactly scream integrity, he's not going to keep his word."

"I was with him for three years, Dean. I worked for him all that time and he never went back on his word once."

"Yes, until he kicked you to the curb when you stopped using! How is that not going back on his word?"

Castiel had stopped at that, frowning and turning around, hands running through his hair and blue tips sticking out every which way before he turned back to face him, brows furrowed and hands dropping to make a dismissive gesture.

"That is different, Dean."

"How? Did he tell you that you had to keep doing that? Did you sign something, make a deal?"

"… No."

"Then how?"

"Because it has to be!"

The ATC looked desperate as he said this and got closer to him, close enough so that he could grab fistfuls of his shirt, eyes rapidly searching for something, words spilling out.

"They have to be safe, Dean. Safe, don't you understand? I can't do anything more, I don't have anything useful to give but this. I'm _useless_ to them, unless I do this for them to keep them safe. To keep you safe, too. I'm not smart with computers like Charlie, or with the law like your brother, I didn't even know how to hot wire a car until you showed me. I'm _so useless_ , Dean. I always have been. I can't… there's _nothing_ more I can do!"

Dean could not believe what a one eighty Castiel had just gone through or the words that left his mouth with such contempt towards himself. Did the drugs do this? Or did he always feel this way, simply kept quiet for the sake of others? He could relate, not that he would admit it, to that level of self-blame, though he never quite voiced it like him, nor did he know how to handle it.

"Cas…"

"There's _nothing…_ I'm no good, I never have been. I can fly a plane, regulate traffic, but what else? I can't do anything helpful. If I do this… I can be good, Dean. Let me… let me be good. I can even be good for you."

A press of their lips, then another, and another until Dean placed his hands on Castiel's, gently moving them away and shook his head.

"You're not useless, Cas. And you're great at a lot more than this, you're more than just what drugs you take or what you do when on them and this… I can't. I can't let you do this, not if it's just the drugs."

Not if it was like Meg, just a warm body to help deal with whatever boost in arousal he had and no doubt why he was capable of lasting so long those nights he heard him on the other side of that wall. Who knew what the hell was going on between them and it probably should have been scarier to him that he had no idea what it could be defined as beyond the fact that it was a very strong and profound thing for knowing each other a couple of days, though he did not want to go and ruin it because of some drugs boosting his libido, that was not the way he wanted to explore whatever it was. And he was meant to stay focused solely on keeping him safe, on getting them out of this, nothing should be acted on until then.

Castiel was having none of that and kept their hands together, smiling a bit too bitterly and without much genuine joy in it, merely what was fabricated from the high he was on.

"Not that… but I'm just a druggie whore, right? I can't want like that, right? Just with someone… _nice._ Nice like you, so great, really great. You're really great, did you know that? Helpful and kind." He pulled them over, away from the window they had migrated to somehow in their discussion and Dean should have stood his ground instead of following, "And it's not… nice, with clients, or Meg. It's just… sex. Basic, chasing pleasure, sex. They're not… mine, not nice. But, aren't you? You're nice. And I want you, so you can be mine. You are. Anything and everything… isn't that how it works? So, it's not only sex, not when it's nice. I keep them safe, keep you safe, but I want… I _need_ you to know, to understand."

Dean really should not have been following along with Castiel's movements, should not have let such a light push take him down onto the bed, sinking into the plush mattress as Castiel crawled on top of him, blue eyes wide and more alert than they ever were previously. He should have mentioned that this was a bad idea to do now, that there were bad guys–and gals–right outside this room, as Castiel kissed his cheeks and then his lips, mumbling in between, "Let me show you, Dean. Let me be good for you. I _want_ to. So nice, Dean. Kind and beautiful, I can show you."

There were plenty of things Dean should have done, rationally, logically, though Castiel's explanation of what was what he had to do and what he wanted, no matter how strangely worded it may have sounded to someone else, was something Dean did understand and then led to the thoughts of well, they were trapped here anyway for the time being, there were plenty of things that could not be done right at this moment, not beyond being stuck in this room, this could help them, in more ways than one, and the initial worry that he was just a warm body dissipated with what he admitted to him just now, so this was not just a pity thing on his behalf, that would be far too insulting for anyone, to just go on that and not actually feel a thing for them.

No, this was something Dean could accept, as odd as the circumstances were, and he would be fucking damned if this did not give him all the more incentive to get them both out of here and get Castiel clean again. There was just one last thing he needed to know.

"What about the door?"

Meg might have not given a shit, but he certainly did.

"It's locked."

That was the last bit Dean needed to know to give a smile, see those eyes brighten, and chase after his lips.

Not just a warm body, but plenty more.

 

\---

 

Dean may have wanted to be more than that, but Meg certainly had no qualms about being nothing more than that, not if it got her more nights like the one she just had. Of course, after she felt like she could move about well enough and took a shower–Castiel had stopped her after he had come out and well, that led somewhere else–she left her room and made her way over to the living room, seeing her father there and sitting down across from him.

"I take it you had a nice evening?"

"It was a hell of a ride and I got a few things out of him, not that there's much he knows. They're trying to expose Azazel and Lilith, there's someone doing the computer work for them, he came because of some threats and he's really sweet on Dean, damn guy might as well have hung the moon with how he talks about him so much, but that might be the drugs, too. He's more… aware, guarded now, than those years ago, like he knows when to keep quiet about stuff and no amount of drugs are going to get him to open up or to indefinitely stay."

Alastair hummed as he poured another cup of tea, sliding it over to her.

"Before he leaves for his work, give him something to keep him going. I think it's about time we give him some free reign. No amount of drugs we monitor will be enough, but I know Castiel, giving him control over will be enough."

At the core, Alastair knew what Castiel was, nothing more than an addict. Perhaps it was not always with drugs, but no one ever said addiction was simply for drugs. People always assumed so sillily that it was for stuff like drugs or alcohol, though it could be for so much more than that. Anything that made him feel good, that he chased down relentlessly, it could become distorted into an addiction and if unchecked, anything would, inevitably become that. That was something he could use and if it just so happened his current addiction of drugs would not be monitored anymore and he might use the evident addiction to Dean and whatever he brought to his life against him, well, that was not something he had shame in admitting.

"Ten-four. What about Dean-o? I don't think he'll take it sitting."

"I'll figure something out. Castiel and Dean, they aren't so different, after all."

If one fell into an addiction, it was only a matter of time before the other succumbed as well.

The rest of the hour was spent on planning what to do and neither Castiel nor Dean had a clue of what was going on.

 

\---

 

Then again, Dean was more focused on how Castiel rested his head on his chest, arm around him and breath puffing against his bare skin, his own arm around the man and fiddling with the tips of his hair, where the blue was still just as vibrant as when he came out of the motel bathroom with it recently done. The other's face was smushed carelessly against him so when he spoke it sounded strange.

"What?"

Castiel removed himself only enough to state, "Let's just stay like this," before plopping back down to his very comfortable position, the arm around him moving so his hand could trace his jawline and hummed contentedly. A chuckle rumbled out of him and he would have been glad to stay how they were, if it were not for the fact that, all in all, they were still on the run with black stains on their records and in a house that was probably just as bad as being held captive by Azazel and Lilith, or even worse. At least with them, he knew where they stood. Here, he had no idea.

"Nah. We got to get some grub, Cas. So, get dressed. If we're not prisoners, then we can go out to eat."

It took some amount of talking him into it to actually getting up, then more to dress and not try and distract him from what they were meant to do. After they finally got dressed and left the room, Castiel making sure he had his wallet, and with one short, "I'm going with Dean to eat," they were out of there, hands held and walking down the street like this was just another ordinary day.

Dean really wished it was because when they got to the restaurant and received what they ordered, it was little more clear that Castiel was still not free of the drugs. His movements were slow when it came to the food, small bits making their way into his mouth that no matter how tiny, he had trouble chewing and swallowing it down, to the point where after three not even spoonfuls of wild rice, he set his spoon down and claimed he was full.

A whole fillet of Atlantic salmon said different.

In the end, he had scraped off all his mashed potatoes onto his plate and taken the rice, thinking it would be easier for him and telling him to try it with the salmon, it should be interesting. That seemed easier for him, not so much chewing involved, and he threw in a sundae as a desert, even, that they shared and Castiel contemplated the name of upside down banana split because, "Nothing is upside down, Dean. If you flip it upside down, it'll all fall out and make a mess. This isn't Dairy Queen."

As long as he ate, the mechanic could feel some sort of ease about this all. That ease was not meant to be his, as nothing good was meant to be, because they spent this time together, like an ordinary, settled couple or whatever that they perhaps could have started off as from the beginning in another lifetime–if they even existed–and not met the way they did. And, as soon as the hours passed them by and they went back to the house, he left to take a shower after the ATC encouraged him, at which point any pretence was gone. For when he was heading back to the room, Meg had come out of it, given a smirk and sauntered off and when he went inside, there was Castiel, sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed and a dopey smile on his face.

"Cas…"

"Mm… yes, Dean?"

There was nothing he could say, really, and he listened to Castiel ramble on about this or that, waited for the hours to pass by in which the other would sometimes leave and then come back, just as fucked up if not more so every time he did. It finally came around nine thirty, that he finally spoke up against it.

"Cas, do you really have to?"

He did not stop in packing his small bag and double checking it as he answered, "We already talked about this, Dean." And was this not just a bitch, this phrasing, like they really were some normal pair and he was asking him not to go do something that a normal pair would deem reckless, like a drag race or something. In a sense, he was doing that, this was reckless and dangerous, it could kill him, it just so happened this was tailored to their situation.

Dean was not going to give up so easily, though, grabbing his arm before he got to the door.

"Wait. Just… can you answer a few things, first?"

"Anything you wish."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"And… you believe me, when I say I can take care of you and your family?"

"I believe that you could, were circumstances different."

That was good enough an opening.

"And what if I can change them, Cas? What if I can protect you and your family, would you follow me? Would you leave with me? Trust me?"

Castiel looked at him properly this time, brow furrowed and eyes flitting across his face, as if looking for anything that might give away him not being honest. Except, there was nothing of that sort to find and he smiled lightly, the kiss just the same.

"Always."

"Then, you have to do something for me. Just one thing. I'm not asking you to stop cold turkey, but… maybe not as much, not so often, try your best. I know it's hard, but I can't do it myself, man. You need to meet me halfway."

That caused another pause, another exchange of looks and another smile and kiss.

"Okay."

How okay it really was, Dean had no idea.

Because he knew, as soon as the clock hit ten, Castiel would be entertaining his first client for whatever spanned of time they pleased, which the ATC told him was usually half an hour, then he would have a fifteen minute window in between to clean up, rest, prepare, whatever he could do.

He hoped it did not include any more drugs.

 

\---

 

Something he would never be able to guess about this night was that his second client would be walking up to the motel door, fidgeting, and knocking on the door. That was how it was done, right? Polite, respectful and junk.

Charlie hoped so.

The door opened and she was met with a half-dressed Castiel smiling down at her. He greeted her with a simple, "Hello," and they stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time before Charlie found her voice.

"Dig the tats."

That made him laugh and she was ushered inside, where she sat on the bed and he took a chair, situating himself so he was sitting backwards and facing her, curious about how she found herself here.

"So, I don't usually question my clients, but seeing as you favour females and I don't quite identify as either gender, I'm wondering what I can offer you."

"Some answers, maybe?"

Castiel lolled his head to the side and grinned, "I think I can do that."

"Great. First, isn't there an easier way to get in touch with you? Because it was really awkward trying to follow what your brother told me."

The man had straightened up and leant forward so much that two of the legs threatened to lift up, eyes wide.

"You talked with Jimmy? Is he safe?"

"Yes. I mean, he doesn't like the goons around, but he's not hurt or anything."

This consumed all of Castiel's thoughts and she even pulled out her phone, dialling the number and once it went to voicemail, she held it out for him to do with as he pleased.

"Jimmy? Jimmy, brother, Charlie tells me you'll get this. Thank God, you're safe. You're all safe. I'll keep it like that, I promise. This'll all be okay. Tell Amelia I love her. And little Claire, too. I'll get her all the blue hair she wants, soon. I love you, brother. And I promise, okay? I do, I promise. I love you."

As soon as he ended the call, he was off the chair and pulling Charlie into his arms, hugging her tightly and face buried in her hair.

"Thank you. So much. I don't know how I can repay you."

"I'll think of something."

That something was also kind of, maybe her slipping something into the back pocket of his jeans before they parted and they sat next to each other, talking about what they could. She did not push too much on Alastair or drugs or anything, though he was happy to answer all the questions.

Finally, she just had to ask.

"Cas, what're you using? Jimmy mentioned you, uh, well, yeah. But, he never said what it was and I was just wondering."

To answer the question, Castiel went over to the bathroom to grab something and then came back to sit with her, showing her a small plastic baggie with powder inside.

"Is that cocaine? Or meth?"

"I use amps. Amphetamines. Last time I used meth, I almost crashed a plane. I had used something before that, sure, but I snorted a lot of meth in one go for my first time."

"Amphetamines… those are like, the ADHD pills, right?"

"Typically."

"Then… why do you snort them? Wouldn't you just be taking them like pills?"

"Meg gives them to me like this. She says it's to get me used to it again and the release time is different."

That seemed awfully suspicious. Charlie kept that to herself for the time being and spent the rest of the time talking of other topics. When he got up to move the chair back to the table, she saw that he had left the baggie beside her and took the chance, stuffing it in her hoodie and standing up once he was facing her again.

"Seems like our half hour is up. Hell of a way to use a couple hundred of bucks."

"I'll have to reimburse you for that."

Another embrace and this time, she got a kiss on the forehead.

"I'll see you real soon, Cas."

Castiel saw her out, leaning against the doorjamb and watching her walk off until he could no longer see her. Smiling, he closed the door and stretched, feeling his back crack before he made his way to the bathroom. It was early, but he felt the itch of it already, he had continuously felt it, the urgency for more and hell, why not take a few more hits of it? He paid his dues, he did everything, he deserved a little more than what he was given before.

Charlie ended up finding her way to a 24 hour diner, not sure where else to go for the time being. Walking right into the room beside his would probably attract attention and she could use a hot cup of coffee for now. And for the rest of the day, she would likely not be getting any sleep any time soon. Once her coffee arrived and she stirred in the right amount of cream and sweeteners, she pulled out her iPhone–backup phone–and opened up an app, signing in and tapping away until she got the marker right on the street she was on. Grinning, she closed the app, tucked her phone away, right next to the baggie with the powder she would have to test somehow, and sipped at her coffee, thinking about her plan, praying it work and coming up with a name in thanks to seeing that tattoo smack on Castiel's chest.

Operation Phoenix was underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie's plan is going to take place in the next chapter and she's certainly wary of what Castiel's using whilst Alastair is more than happy with how it's going.
> 
> And, I did cut off deliberately with Dean and Castiel, I'm well aware I did. Writing stuff of a sexual nature, I only go so far for a multitude of reasons. One is just that I probably am actually terrible at it, if I ever bothered trying to do it in explicit detail. The last time I ever did was in a roleplay with my girlfriend and that was vague, short, and never publicised, nor will it ever be. So, use your imagination, write your own, whatever you please. 
> 
> I do have this belief that Castiel doesn't identify as male or female personally, though accepts any pronouns given, he doesn't much mind. 
> 
> I think that's it for the notes, I'll add more if I remember anything else.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns a few new things, Castiel finally makes his choice and everything seems to be going according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out a little later than usual, but I've been really busy. All of this was written in between breaks I've had: between work, class and tutoring. So, I hope it still flows properly and makes sense. A lot is packed into this, and there's time skips, but it'll pick up again soon. Maybe I'll be able to post something this weekend, if there's not too much to do. If there are any typos or suggestions, feel free to comment.
> 
> A random side note because it was just exciting to me, I found out the next Supernatural convention near me is in Pasadena, which is about little under half an hour away from me. Burbank was still kind of close, maybe an hour or so, but not like this and it's around my birthday, what a cool thing. Exciting news and something to look forward to. Maybe I'll meet some people around there, who knows. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :D

Dean was not so much a morning person, to be honest. He was more a wake up at ten, still think it too early, and hit snooze until noon type person. Of course, he still did have to get up early usually to open up shop and all, especially once he became owner, and he could function on only four hours of sleep, but that was nine kinds of unhealthy and he knew it, so he preferred days were he could kick back, relax and tack on a few extra hours of sleep. Being trapped in this house disallowed that from being something he could comfortably do, he did not have the misfortune of being hopped up on drugs to loosen him up enough to sleep so soundly like Castiel was.

Sure, he slept his four hours, managed to take on a fifth, but since then, since nine in the morning, all he had really been doing was sitting there, propped up against the headboard, letting Castiel's arms wrap around him as he pleased and his head rest on him, the man dead to the world. Not literally, he did actually check that every so often, when his breath was too light to be felt. From the time Castiel left him there to when he came stumbling back, freshly showered, at the ass crack of dawn, Dean had been unable to sleep, trying to use that time to come up with some type of plan to get them out of there.

Alastair had said it was Castiel's choice whether he wanted to leave or not and he could respect the whole free will deal, he could. Except, this did not look too much like that to him. Were his family not in danger, Castiel never would have done this, he would have been with Dean, back in some hotel room in another state, free of drugs and they would be planning how to go at Lilith and Azazel. So, if he figured out where the Novak's were, if he could get them out of Pontiac, out of Illinois altogether and to Lawrence, with Ellen, that would be all the incentive the other would need to leave, right?

Drugs alone could not keep him here, that surely could not be enough.

Even if they were at this point, he could bullshit his way out of that, tell him they could find some dealers as they went along, supply his amphetamine addiction, and end up getting it under control before stopping it altogether. The only drawback of that was Dean had no idea how much he took a day and as much as he trusted Castiel, he did not trust what drugs would make him do. He had told him that he had started amphetamines at sixteen–using a variety of others since fourteen–stopping a month before he hit twenty, but back then, it was always in pill form, he had them crushed up and snorted a few times, but never like this, the act of snorting reminded him of the first and sworn last time he would try meth. The then teenager was eager for a stronger hit, stupidly thinking that since he was already riding a high, though wearing off, the certain amount of meth he had would be even better. That had promptly exploded in his face and he had said that not long after he told his brother he would stop using, he started getting paranoid and eventually broke down into hysteria and hallucinations.

Some kind of drug-induced psychosis, he told him, from a lack of food or anything and too many drugs in him. Now, Dean was all for getting him to stop, but not at the risk of that. So, he would bite the bullet, get him what he needed and slowly–safely–lower his intake until he stopped. And, as he carded his fingers through the slumbering male's hair, he found himself wondering just how much exactly was safe when a muffled kind of drone cut through the silence.

Befuddled, the mechanic looked around the room, eyes narrowed. Were they spying on them, seeing if he was trying anything to get rid of him before he could act upon his plan? Listening closely, it was more centralised towards the bed and so much for privacy, that was disgusting, did they get off on seeing or hearing them? Fucking drug dealers and shit. As he shifted carefully, so as to not wake up the other who actually took a great deal to get to sleep, he peered over the side of the bed and saw nothing, though the noise started up again and now that he was looking, he found that the source the little lump that was his jacket, the one Castiel had removed on his first night here and he had simply left it there.

… Oh.

_Bzzzt._

Oh, oh shit.

Scrambling, he reached for his jacket and checked the pockets, feeling the device and pulling it out, screen lit up with unread texts.

_Charlie Sent 4 Minutes Ago  
Dean?_

_Charlie Sent 2 Minutes Ago  
Or maybe bad guys?_

_Charlie Now  
Hopefully Dean. Call me, maybe?_

An unlock code, scroll down, and tap later, the time it took Charlie to answer was way too long.

"Dean?"

"Charlie. Fuck, I had no idea I had my phone."

"It wasn't in your room and since Cas said you were with him, I assumed they didn't pat you down or anything."

"Wait, you talked to Cas? When?"

"Er… last night? When I kind of paid for his services that Jimmy told me how to get?"

Dean looked down at the male still partly on him, happily snoozing away, let the words sink in and then, "You paid to talk to him? That's a whole new level of really needing to talk to someone, you know." It was meant to be a joke, any type of joke, to get rid of the tightness in his chest, the one that came from knowing how serious this was, how easily Castiel was snatched up and manipulated when his family was on the line. From the bits and pieces he got from the other, back then, he could still go to school, talk to people without an issue, go home and be with his family, all the things he should be able to do now. Yet, he never did, because he was no longer underage or near the age where his disappearance would be too noticeable, especially when two of the ones he was in contact with most knew what he was doing so it was not suddenly him being gone.

It was part of their deal, now, to not see them for the time being and any time until Alastair thought right. Castiel had mentioned hating that, how he wanted to see them, hold them, take Claire to get what she wanted, but also stated maybe it was better Claire not see him like this, not so close to falling apart and broken. That hurt to hear, honestly, that even Castiel knew how this was tearing him apart and he did not stop because he knew what it meant or maybe he just could not anymore.

Obviously, with all that weighing on his mind, the joke fell flat.

"Yeah, well, we're not all bunking with him."

At least Charlie was trying.

"Anyway, I put a tracking device in his pocket, so if he's with you, I got where you are. And if that's where you are, I think I can get you out, either before or after I get the Novak's."

"Jesus, that's… you've been working, haven't you?" It was a lot more progress than he was making here, that was for sure, being stuck here stopped him from doing a lot of things he would rather be doing, though at the very least, he could be grateful that he was with Castiel and was not worrying whether he was dead or not, "But, I don't think you can come here. Alastair and Meg are here and I don't think they're alone, they probably have some sort of guards here or something. Cas had someone with him the night I found him, that dick's the reason I'm stuck here."

"You have goons, too? Damn… I don't think I have enough for everyone and I told Jimmy by today. Alright. New plan. Do you think you can go with Cas tonight? You said there's only one guy with him, right? If you can go and knock him out or something, I can just pick you up from there."

"Believe me, that won't be a problem. I've been looking for a reason to get him back."

"Good. I don't think Cas likes him either. I'll see you both at around ten, then, text me the exact time. And, uhm, just one more question. What is Cas on?"

"What's he on?" That seemed like a question a little out of the blue. And something that could have been asked to Castiel himself if they had spoken. Maybe she felt awkward asking him directly or something, not that he blamed her and answered, "Amphetamines. He says Alastair wanted to get him on meth, but he didn't respond well to it the first time around."

"… Oh."

Dean narrowed his eyes at that, it did not sound very reassuring, or however reassuring any one person could be when talking about drugs, "Why? Did he tell you something else?"

"No, no. He told me the same, even showed me. I was just wondering. Tell him what the plan is and text me once we're all on the same page."

Goodbyes said, he ended the call, holding the phone for a little while longer before it was tucked under the pillow for the time being. Not even ten minutes later, Castiel finally stirred, groping blindly as he yawned and blinked away the sleep, giving him groggy smile and kiss to his jaw.

"Good morning, Dean."

"Hey, Cas. Sleep well?"

"I had a very good pillow, so yes. You?"

"Good, yeah."

Castiel was satisfied with that and with staying in their current position, something Dean was alright with for the time being, seeing as he did not have to go to the bathroom and there was little other that appealed to him here. As his hand moved down from seeing what new direction he could get the other's hair to stick up down to his right bicep, he traced the tattoo on it, a strange looking thing to him. Not because it was made to look like it was carved out and raw, he saw that a handful of times, just the tattoo itself was something he never saw before. Some sort of symbol, he guessed, a circle with some odd lines forming… a very weird five, was the best he could think of it as, inside. It had the general components of it, he guessed, if needing to describe it in a pinch, and outside of it there were a few more symbols he could more easily describe. A triangle at the top, two N's in the upper sides, some squiggles at the lower sides and a 3 and Z at the bottom.

… Yeah, he was not the best at English still.

Maybe if he knew what they meant.

"Cas, what do your tattoos mean? Or did you just get them for fun?"

"They mean something, but it doesn't mean they weren't fun, either. That one you're touching, it's an angel banishing sigil. I found it in a book, once, and I thought it was neat. And, I figured, Jimmy believes in all that, he's a very devout man, I'm not, so anything to keep the angels away from me and closer to him."

"There a reason you don't believe? You told me your mom was, too, devout and all, and so is your brother."

"Mm… there are probably a lot of reasons. I never really held the same firm beliefs they did, always questioned everything too much, always had doubts. And, Jimmy might not remember it, I actually highly doubt he knows at all, I worked hard to hide it from him, how it was when we were abandoned, what it did to our mother. Seemed unfair to me, that if God was real, he'd put her through something like that. It's bullshit to say, 'Oh, it's just God testing your faith,' because that's sick and wrong to play with life that way. People are living, sentient beings, they aren't toys for when God or angels or whoever is up in Heaven to play with."

Dean understood the thoughts behind his words, agreed with them, even. Though, it did not suck any less to hear that, to know there were deadbeat dads out there and Castiel and Jimmy were unfortunate enough to get stuck with one. His father was not blue ribbon material, but he was at least honourable mention material, he tried his best, he kept on going even when he was in his worst states for Sam and him. The ATC shrugged as best he could with how he was and carried on.

"I guess it's also that I never felt God was there with me. You hear all these strong believers with such firm beliefs that God is always with them and I… never had that. Maybe God failed me or I failed God, or the more commonly heard from others that God simply abandoned me for my sinful ways. Either way, I don't believe though I know the bible and prayers and everything, I go with Jimmy and my mother to church when I'm here, to show my support of their beliefs, to respect them and they respect my decision to not believe."

With how devout they were and how horribly wrong that could have gone, what with all the horror stories he heard, that was a really good thing, how it turned out. And Dean would prefer not to entertain the idea of where Castiel would be if they had tossed him on his ass.

"And the others? The wings and phoenix?"

"Those are symbolic, yes. I got the wings when I was eighteen, first one I ever got and it took more than a few sessions. I was always on something, back then, and I felt on top of the world, like I could do anything. Except… I knew, what the drugs meant, what they did. I was high, but I wasn't stupid. Jimmy always told me how he was worried about me, that I was falling too fast. And I thought… _how true._ So, the wings, they're torn out, in a way, broken and bleeding… because that's how I was. The date, it's when I started using. Not amps, per say, but it's when it all started."

That was… depressing. He got the idea behind it, knew that it was a big part of his life, not that it made it any less sad or a hell of a story he had and tattooed on his back. Knowing this now, it begged the question of the one on his chest. Broken wings and a date, in the year 1998 was on his back, in the past, and a phoenix with another date, year 2004, on his chest, it could be the future.

"Then… the other is when you stopped, started over?"

"Exactly."

Castiel turned his arm over, to show the inside of his forearm, where there was a vine of sunflowers crawling up from his wrist to the bend of his elbow and a bee buzzing along.

"I like bees."

That was all he explained with a tiny grin, he imagined there was a much more elaborate reason, but those three, simple words were somehow so hilarious to him, he laughed and the male followed along with him.

"Were you talking, earlier? Or was that a dream?"

Well, maybe he was not as dead to the world as he had initially thought and that was a good thing in many ways, one being he did not have to come up with a way to slip it into conversation. With Castiel, being blunt usually worked, he picked up on as the other was used to being so himself.

"Yeah, I was talking. I wanted to go with you, tonight."

Castiel tensed up some in his arms before relaxing and shaking his head, "Dean, I can't… it's not–you're safe here. I can't do that then. I could… ah, I could ask for someone to make sure you're safe. Do you need your bag? I can get it for you."

"No. I don't need my bag. Well, it'd be nice, but that's not it. Remember yesterday, what I told you, about circumstances changing? That's happening now. So, trust me."

The ATC finally sat up some and stared at him, brow furrowed and Dean did not know what was going through his head, he was a goddamn closed book at the worst times. Finally, he blinked and gave a slow nod.

"Okay. I'll tell Alastair, you'll stay with the guard, though. To be safe."

"I'll stay with the guard, to be safe."

Confirmation enough for him, Castiel smiled and kissed him before sliding out of bed, claiming, "I'm going to go to the bathroom, then tell him. Are you hungry? We can go get food for you. I don't think there is good food here. You should have good food. We can go to a place a few minutes away, it's the best."

"Yeah. We can go get good food. You're eating, too." He made a face at that, which prompted Dean to add, "It'll be nice, Cas, we can share and it'll be good, right? You'd like it and I want that." He felt bad for using his own words against him, in a sense, yet he was doing it for a good cause, so it was okay, right? A thin line, certainly, one he would have to walk on for now and he liked to think he was doing a good job with it so far, it had gotten him to agree before he left the room.

Waiting until he left, the phone was taken out again and after a few curses at the tiny buttons that made up the keyboard, he managed to send a text to Charlie, telling her everything was ready to go. Her text of, "I'll pick up the Novak's first. You'll know when I'm coming," was reassuring, to say the least.

Now, if he could get Castiel to eat and keep it down, that would make this day even better.

 

\---

 

Anything Castiel would manage to eat would surely be more than Jimmy was able to keep down. Amelia had made breakfast and he had his coffee at eight in the morning, like always. The food itself was not touched, merely pushed around the cheap paper plates they were provided with and he opted to listen to Claire go on about what she was looking forward to today rather than face Amelia's looks that questioned him on things he could not yet discuss.

Being stuck in a teeny tiny apartment did not make it easy to avoid questions for too long and the only real reprieve he had was being the one to go along to drop off Claire at school. Bastard number one drove them there and drove him right back, no detours of any kind, which he was hoping there would be some kind, any kind, because he could not lie to Amelia, not at all, and keeping her in the dark was something he was terrible at, there was not much longer he could last, especially now without Claire there.

As expected, the moment he got back and they were left alone, she came along with another coffee cup, set it down in front of him with a little too much force, and his cheerful thanks died on his tongue when meeting her stern stare.

Crap, he knew that look and he was not going to get out of this without giving her some sort of answer.

"What're you hiding, Jimmy?"

"What? Nothing, Ames. Why would you say that?"

"If you couldn't lie to me when we were eighteen, what makes you think thirty is any different?"

So much for practice makes perfect.

Now, he could keep trying to fool her and fail catastrophically or tell her, but what if that got her hopes up and then it failed? He could not do that to her, that was cruel. She sat herself across from him, patiently waiting though he knew from experience that patience could snap like a flimsy rubber band at any moment and that was not an experience he wanted to relive.

Damn, and he was banking on her not asking until much later.

"It's… a way out of here, or the best shot we have at it. When we were at the park, I talked to someone, she knows Castiel and is helping up get out of here."

"You talked to some _stranger_ and took her word? What if she's with whoever is after Castiel?"

"You believe in me, don't you, Ames? You have faith?" Jimmy pushed aside the coffee cup to take her hands in his own, squeezing them lightly because he could not tell her much more beyond that, she simply had to believe. Hell, he had to believe, too, there was nothing much he could do besides that.

"Of course I do."

"Then, trust me. This is a good thing, this'll work out."

Amelia was still skeptical about it, that much was obvious from her expression, yet she relented. Her husband could be stubborn, to the point where sometimes it came around in a not so good way, and sometimes, it was just enough to make her smile. He had changed since they met in college, though he was the same in places where it counted and one of those was how much faith he had in people, in the world, in God.

And she would share that, he would provide her with what she lacked and the other way around when he needed it.

She saw how this alleviated whatever weight he had been carrying around, how he moved a little easier the next few hours and he was not immediately set off by the guards being around. And if she saw that he frequently tapped his jean's pocket whenever he thought no one was looking and heard the very familiar voice of Castiel once when she passed by the bedroom, where Jimmy had stayed in for some time after, she said nothing about it.

Must be something to do with that female he spoke to, most likely he had a phone on him, some sort of communication device, and he mentioned right before he left to pick up Claire that it was important he go. As much as she wanted to go with him, see who this woman was, what she was telling her husband, they had agreed that this way was less likely to arouse suspicions and if anything happened here, if anyone came by, Amelia would know and be able to tell him.

If only it did not seem so long until they returned.

Jimmy would like for this all to hurry up, too, he was not meant for things like this. He lived a simple life, a run of the mill, suburban life. Secret meetings and drug rings and all that were not his cup of tea, which probably accounted some for his bluntness when telling the man that drove him here no, he had to stay, he alone was going with Claire to talk to her teacher because the whole damn school did not need to know what was going on. Insolence, some might say, or just plain stupidity, Jimmy liked to think it was normal and what they deserved. They did not respect him, so he would not respect them.

Certainly, he respected his little girl, who he greeted at the very entrance of her school, matching her bright smile and catching her when she jumped into his arms.

"Hey, baby. How was school?"

"Good! I got a slinky and bubbles and candy from the treasure box today!"

"Whoa, all of that? You must have done really good today."

"I did!"

As he set her down, he took charge of wheeling her backpack around, holding her hand and listening to her talk about how she scored highest on a game they played and she even was treasure chest monitor now and her teacher said it was a very important job. They were down one of the last halls before her class and to say he was nervous was putting it a bit lightly. Was Charlie even here? What if they found out what she was planning? There was no indication that she was even here, he could not even hope to check the parking lot for her car or anything, he had no idea what she drove.

"Pssst!"

Stopping, he looked around and briefly considered the possibility he was hearing things when the noise happened again and Claire tugged at his hand before pointing to the girl's restroom with a, "Look, daddy."

There was Charlie, waving sheepishly before hurriedly motioning them to come in. He did so, as did Claire, and he closed the door behind them, which was the best security they could have at the time.

"I'm beginning to think you watch too many cliché movies where the bathroom is considered a secret meeting place."

"Maybe. It works, though."

Good enough formalities as they would have, Charlie got out the small baggie she had with a handful of pills in them, holding them out to the other but in a way that, she hoped, would keep his daughter from seeing them.

No need to expose her to that sort of thing.

"These, uh, candies you really like, I got them. They're sweet, though, like, _really_ sweet, so only maybe about five, with a whole pot of coffee or something, that should keep it from being too sweet."

Jimmy took them and spared no time to stuff them in the pockets of his jacket, nodding once. He essentially had likely not so legal drugs in his pocket that he got in the girl's bathroom at his daughter's school, with Claire next to him and a bee roller backpack in his hand that Castiel gifted her with on Christmas and she refused to part with.

What in God's name was his life?

"Five. Or so, really sweet. Okay. And… I'll call you, to tell you how they tasted?" Speaking like this, in some sort of code was not as hard as he may have thought and it made him a little sick that such was true.

"Yeah. Or, before is better. Then I'll know."

"Okay. I'm guessing I'm not supposed to ask where you got it?"

"Probably best not to."

So, very far from legal then. Yes, he was certainly not feeling well at all, and that may have shown in how hastily he dismissed himself along with Claire, answering her questions of what candy it was as vaguely as possible, "I'll tell you later, Claire. Right now, it has to be a secret between us, okay? Or else everyone will be asking for candy and I don't have enough, I don't want to make people sad."

How solemn she was in nodding, like this lack of candy to share was the most important thing in the world, could make him cry for how innocent she was and dragged into this without knowing. A few tears did build up on the way back and after Claire greeted Amelia and went off to do her homework, they may or may not have slipped out when he went to hold his wife close, breath shuddering out of him.

Amelia held him without question, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head and well, it felt like the past all over again, when he was so lost and uncertain of what was to come and that scared him shitless. Then, it was about what was going to happen to Castiel, who had suddenly started screaming at them or at whatever he thought was around him, and lashing out at them for taking away his drugs that he said he needed or else he was going to die and hurting himself in the process, what was going to happen to his mother, who could not handle it all anymore and work was becoming too much but if she did not keep working, they were at risk of being run out of their house, it was about how the life he grew up in, the two people who seemed so strong and unmovable were breaking apart right before his eyes and he was terrified.

Jimmy was not weak himself, per say, or he liked to believe he was not. He shouldered a great deal of it all, too. He worked whatever crap hours he could get back then and was paid minimum wage even if he did more work than others who were paid more at his work, went to school full time, took care of his brother when he was too strung out to do it himself, kept the house clean and cooked and helped his mother out. And he did it all without much compliant, he soldiered on.

Except… when it was his life as he knew it being torn apart, when it was those close to him and he could do nothing but stand there, helpless, it did things to him. Not for very long outwardly, which could not be said for internally, and the external reaction did not make him feel too much better.

However, he liked being in Amelia's arms, that was something that would never change. And when he moved away and she asked, "Better now?" there was no question in how much he loved her, how he loved that she understood him entirely, how she knew what to say and what to do, and no kiss he could give her could hope to convey that. Still, that did not stop him from trying over and over again and he would continue to do so for as long as they lived and then some.

Unfortunately, he could not spend all his time doing this. The anxiety bubbling up in his stomach made it hard for him to do much of anything, if he were honest. He helped Claire with her homework, all three of them played with the new bubbles she had and he even played make believe with Claire at which point she claimed he was a very pretty princess. The extra bonding time was something he enjoyed with her, he never quite was able to have this much time with her because of work. The reason why he was able to do this, he did not like quite so much.

And now, it was hitting near eight thirty, Amelia was making dinner and he was standing nearby, making coffee. It was an old coffee machine and he questioned its functionality since arriving here. Coffee came out and it was decent, so it was alright, and it made enough for the two of them and the two he knew were in the next room over.

Now or never.

Glancing behind him to check they were not suddenly behind him, the baggie was taken out and opened, a few of the pills gingerly plucked out and plopped into the remaining coffee in the pot. He heard Amelia stop stirring the sauce and felt her eyes on him, watching and questioning what he was doing. More than well aware was he that these were illegal, that he was doing something frequently seen as immoral, that this was overall wrong. And he could not bring himself to care about that, not right now, not if it meant he was going to get them out of here, get them somewhere that truly was safe. This was all he could do to protect his family, so he grit his teeth and stirred the coffee to ensure it was all dissolved, muttering, "I have to do this, Amelia," because this was his family, he needed to keep them safe and that included his stupid brother who had his heart in the right place though was too selfless for his own good sometimes and sacrificed too much.

All Amelia had done was pat his hand, give a tiny smile and nod, then get the plates out to serve. Once that was done as she went into the other room to tell those men to join them, he pulled out the phone he was given and sent a quick text, getting a response within seconds.

Never was a dinner so tense, some talk here and there, all a sort of pretence that they were all friendly with each other and that was good for Claire, if she did not pick up on it. A reasonable guess was that she did, with how quiet she was and wanted to go to bed already. Amelia took her to the bedroom they all shared and boy, this was seven kinds of awkward and strained. He kept his eyes on his plate, plastic fork spearing a meatball and he heard one of them get up. Expecting some sort of demand on who he had been talking with and what was he planning, Jimmy was relieved that he was merely going to get some coffee, as they always did.

That solved that problem.

A smile had to be held back because he heard what these guys said about them, in particular about him, that he only acted tough but could never act on his words, that he was weak and all, was not smart enough to know what to do and had to be watched over like some baby. Well, they were just outsmarted by him and if it was not so petty and would give away their plan, he would give them a piece of his mind and get them back for all those times they said something about him or Amelia and Claire.

It was necessary to be the bigger man and keep to himself. He did just that and finished his meal, cleaned up everything and then went to the bedroom, instructing Amelia to pack everything they had brought with them. Working efficiently and not waking Claire up, it was not long before he heard a pair of thumps and he told Amelia to stay with Claire and be on the lookout if a car came by with a redhead, just in case.

When he got to the two men, unconscious in an unceremonious heap, double checking they were out cold, he figured that would have to be a good enough way to get back at them and karma would do the rest.

"Jimmy! There's a car coming."

Naturally, when considering the types of cars he saw zooming around Pontiac and whenever he had to go other places for business, the word car brought up a certain picture to mind. This picture was not the monster of a car rolling up the street, engine seeming loud enough at this hour to wake up the adjacent neighbourhood. Needless to say, this was not the kind of vehicle he expected Charlie to drive and he was stuck staring for a few seconds before he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket.

_Charlie Now  
Ready to go?_

He was more than ready.

Claire's bag slung over his shoulder and Claire herself gently gathered up in his arms, trying his best not to wake her up, he was out of that crappy apartment as soon as Amelia was ready–carrying their bag and the bag one of the men brought, claiming that Castiel wanted them to keep it for him–hurrying down the stairs as fast as he could and Charlie was out of the car by the time he reached her, opening up the backdoor for him to get in and helping him with the bag.

Amelia stood by as all of this occurred, taking in how the other female moved and her expression as she did so, she noticed all that she did until her husband and daughter were in the backseat, door creaking shut before she turned to her.

"Hi. Uh, Charlie Bradbury, here to rescue you, so we should probably get going."

Amelia kept her eyes on her for a moment more then came forward to give her a hug that had Charlie sticking her arms out awkwardly, "Oh, wow, hug, okay. Good, that's good, you're welcome and stuff," and finally patted her back.

Jimmy was right to have trusted her, there was simply something about her that made it clear she was a good person.

They both got in the car and off they went, not long after did Jimmy speak up, "Given we're meant to not be caught, isn't this car a little… loud?" Charlie laughed at that, recalling all the times the Impala received that comment, how loud it was, how anyone could hear it coming a mile away or there was no doubting who was around when it was parked.

"It's Dean's car, not mine. He felt the need to come find Cas in it, I didn't question it, neither did Jo, but I do know he'd kill me if I left it in some lot and booked it out of the state when everyone's here."

Hell of an attachment to a car. Knowing it belonged to Dean made a little more sense, he just seemed like the type to be into classic cars like this. A rather large assumption based on mere pictures of the man and the little Castiel told him, it was the only thing keeping him occupied. He might otherwise seriously lose it, hand reaching in to pull out the phone and staring at the voicemail.

Castiel had sounded so different in it, compared to when he first arrived. Just like in the past, when he would have to force him to sit down and eat or remind him he had to sleep or he had school, when he would have to share a bed with him because that was the only way he could reassure himself he was alive, when he had nearly lost him and it hurt. He was doing it for them, he did not have to say it aloud, he knew that was the reason. Still, Jimmy hated it. Hated the fact that he was using again, that whatever Dean got him mixed up in had driven him to such a point. He probably would even hate Dean if Castiel had not insisted that he was a good man, he was trying to do good and it was used against him. Maybe a part of him, the little irrational, screw that part of him still hated Dean for it, for being part of the reason.

There were just way too many things he disliked about the current predicament.

"You said we are going to get Cas and Dean, too?"

"Yup. When it's nine twenty, we'll be swinging by to pick them up."

Not too long from now and it would still stretch on for an eternity.

 

\---

 

In a way, Dean kind of wished it felt that way. If it did, he might have a bit more time to plan out exactly how he was going to do this. Castiel had come back with the news that he could go along with him, but he would stay with Gerald–he was fond of just calling him a dick–so as not to interfere with business. They had also gone out to eat, at a neat little diner that the owner seemed to know Castiel and did not kick up a fuss about either of them being there, given the news did show their faces not long ago and label them extremely dangerous.

No, Castiel smiled at the owner and he was gone on him, bringing them whatever they ordered and even throwing in a free plate. Dean thought to ask what was up with that and Castiel beat him to it, saying "I help attract customers." And that could be taken a number of ways, he decided to take it that he was a cool guy that helped with tables in the past with a good personality people liked because it was better than the alternative. The ATC had excused himself at some point, going up to the counter and speaking with the owner and it took every fibre of his being to continue believing his initial conclusion when the other was leaning in so close and personal, clearly talking him into something and pulling out every trick he had to get what he wanted.

He came back, though, and that was a relief, Dean would have probably fucked up whatever he was trying to do if the owner kept staring at him the way he was or worse, took him to the back. That was all kept to himself, however. Castiel was in a certain type of trade at the moment, flirting and leading on and all that kind of stuff was a given, and he was doing it for his family. As much as it pained him and left him with about a thousand conflicting emotions and thoughts, he had to respect that.

Regardless of the drugs consistently coursing through his system, Castiel was very perceptive of this struggle in Dean and he did try to make it less of a burden on him throughout the day. By holding his hand, taking him places he loved and spent with family and close ones, giving him kisses spontaneously or simply being there, with him, with no one else catching his eye, he did what he could.

It was not faked, either. He enjoyed doing this all with him and no one else did catch his eye. Sure, he had to make people feel like they were the only one for him and treat them as such, do everything they wanted–so long as they paid–and he did, he was, in his opinion, genuine when it came to that. Yet, it was not genuine enough to last, it was in the moment, in that half hour, because they needed it, they paid, he could do that for them, he could deliver. With Dean, he did not have to be paid to make this happen, it came naturally, he could do it all day and not be tired of it. Dean was special, very much so.

Dean was his and that was more than any of the clients could ever be.

The gesture was appreciated, it was, and Dean wholly reciprocated. Just… Castiel's constant use of drugs loomed over it like a dark cloud. Whether or not he was really trying to cut back his use was unclear to Dean, not having known how much he was using to begin with. Probably still not cut down enough because not long after they arrived back, he had left, done enough lines that when he entered the room, Dean had immediately made his way to him, eyes wide and cursing.

"Fuck, Cas, you're bleeding."

And so he was, as he touched under his nose, feeling blood trickle out steadily. That was why he should probably not stick to one side specifically and why he preferred not to snort. He gave a simple, "Oh. How unfortunate." Then went to get a tissue and clean up, unperturbed.

That was the last they talked about it and whenever Castiel would come back into the room, he would still be sniffling sometimes, though rubbing the other nostril instead and well, Dean knew what that meant. From then, whenever the other would linger in his touches or say all those nice things, he tried to see it as Castiel, the one he crashed into, not the drugs, but it was getting increasingly obvious he was getting deeper and deeper into it all.

Dean had no idea if he would be able to pull him out.

Granted, he would not give up on him, no one deserved having this life and Castiel had a life before this. He was an air traffic controller, he flew planes, he had a cat and friends and coworkers and a real, proper life. Once he had gotten over the initial heebie-jeebies of planes and gotten him to talk more about it, he realised that as much as he hated planes, Castiel loved them equally, maybe even more. Flying was something he cared for, that he looked forward to and he could relate, with cars, what freedom they gave. So, he would get him back to that life, regardless of what might come.

That was later, though, in the future. Right now, all he had to worry about was shrugging on his jacket, waiting for Castiel to get his bag packed and getting in the car. Next was the hard part, knocking this dick out. Normally, he might feel a little more confident in his capability to do so. A swift hit and that would be it. Although usually, he might have more at his disposal than his bare hands for such a quick strike and nowhere near as much would be at stake.

Fuck, they were here and so was the small window of opportunity he had. Caught up in his thoughts, he registered belatedly when Castiel shoved his bag on his lap rather urgently, meeting his wide gaze that moved down to the half open bag.

"Take care of my bag? It's important, make sure _everything_ is in there."

That was all he said before scrambling out of the back, hurrying after Gerald and not sparing another minute.

"Hey!"

Holy shit, what was he doing?

_"Every other day, I sit and wait for same the bad news! Can you hear me say, 'I've got nothing left to lose?'"_

Dean gawked as Castiel belted out these lyrics, not giving two shits on how he was practically shouting them in the dead of night or how he sounded, making exaggerated gestures towards himself and spun on his heels, catching his eye for a brief moment and offering a wink before continuing.

_"Someone please start making sense and beg the Lord for accidents! I've seen the worst case scenario, I'm slowly letting go!"_

Tearing his eyes off the scene, where Gerald was finally walking back towards Castiel, no doubt thinking he was out of his mind on drugs, he looked down at the bag he was handed, peering inside and… oh. There was a heavy duty pipe wrench looking right back at him.

_"Rescue me, from everything! I just want to live, I wish I could breathe!"_

Castiel had already guessed his plan and everything that could happen, even helped out how he could, was still doing so now by bringing that dick closer again, finally passing him by and getting a little closer to the actual room before throwing himself on the ground, one arm thrown over his eyes as he laughed and grinned, lyrics coming out hysterically now. It was enough to prompt Gerald to reach down to grab him, likely take him back and say he was too stupid on drugs to go for the night.

Which, coincidentally, also gave him an opening.

From the point where he closed his fingers around the wrench to when he was standing behind the other and bringing down the wrench as hard as he could, he could not remember much of anything. And maybe that was for the best right now. Dickhead was out with that hit and the change in Castiel was instantaneous, the entire act dropped and he was heaving himself up, brushing his clothes off and taking his place by him calmly, examining the other with a detached curiosity and nothing more.

"You knew this whole time."

"Like I said, I may be high, but I am not stupid. And, I have to keep you _safe,_ always. You are special, Dean. _Mine."_

Kissing his cheek, Castiel turned around when he heard a low rumble of an engine. That was strange, no one was supposed to come for awhile. When at the diner, he asked for another to cover his night and specified when to arrive, a good ten to fifteen minutes after they did, to ensure they would not cross paths with anyone. What came was a vehicle that he saw from a distance before only, idle. This time, it was very much not so and after squinting to adjust for the headlights, he managed to see the two in the front seats.

_"Amelia?"_

Anything else was forgotten for that one moment. The drugs, what he had done, the situation they faced, everything. They were all there, safe, and they were really there, Amelia was out of the car and coming towards him, so everything else be damned because he could feel her, confirm she was safe himself.

"Castiel. Oh, you're alright."

"Yes, yes, I am. And you, you're all–I kept you safe?"

"You did. But, sweetie, we need to go."

"She's right, you know. If this guy here isn't going to raise questions, the two back at the apartment will."

Castiel parted from Amelia to see Jimmy standing by her, offering a smile and all he had to do was gesture slightly with his arms before they hugged, the ATC gripping his jacket as tightly as the other did his.

"I had to do it, Jimmy. Had to keep you safe. I promised, so I had to. I came back, though. Remember, I promised."

"It's okay, it's alright. I know. It's okay now. I never doubted you."

During this touching reunion, Charlie went up to Dean, eyeing the unconscious man and then the wrench.

"Really gave it to him, huh?"

"Cas helped, but yeah. Hold this, I got to get him in his car. Better yet, the trunk."

It was a bit of a struggle at first until the Novak twins came up and helped him out, hauling him up and into the trunk. Rather than simply closing the trunk, Jimmy stopped him and pulled something out of his pocket.

"These kept the guys at the apartment knocked out. Shouldn't we, I don't know, give him one so he doesn't come to anytime soon and go back to Alastair?"

Not even a glimpse was possible with how fast Castiel snatched it up, round eyes on his twin.

"What are you _doing_ with this? If they knew you had this…"

"You did what you had to for our family, I did what I had to."

Some sort of twin telepathy went down and then Castiel nodded, producing two small pills. Jimmy pried Gerald's jaw open and Castiel allowed the pills in, it was done so fluidly, like they did it all the time or could predict one another's actions and went along with it.

Twins, man, they were something else.

With the trunk firmly shut, they all did not look back once when in the car. Dean tried to take the wheel, it was his car, but Charlie refused, "My rescue mission, I drive, you deal with it." And considering all she had done, he gave it to her this time, getting in the back with Castiel and Jimmy, who moved Claire onto his lap. She had roused some, enough that she noticed Castiel and spoke briefly until he told her to go to sleep, they would talk later.

As they blew out of Pontiac, Castiel resting his head on his shoulder and hands held, Dean found this a little surreal. A lot of this was unbelievable, how they met, what happened in the days they knew each other, how it all led to this. Much of it all could have been done differently, preferably it would have been, they could have met under different circumstances, better ones and they would not be on the lam right now, Castiel's family in tow and heading back to Lawrence to drop them off. Those were if only's, not something he should focus on, they were not going to help out, and he focused instead on the now. On how he felt Castiel beside him, how he pulled him out of what Alastair pushed him into, how he got to the other's family and it was not a repeat of his own, he focused on the good of everything for now because hell, that was what was going to get them through this all.

Most of all, he liked to focus on how when it came down to it, Castiel really did trust him with all he had.

 

\---

 

They were out in the clear only for so long, as one might think, with such a hastily drawn up plan. Ingenious, Alastair could give them that, and with no small sense on poetic justice of sorts, using one of the very thing he distributed to help make their get away. A possibility that never went away, Dean was quite a liability to have around, though it did not seem like he could have been the one to do it. At least, not on his own, he was attached to the hip with Castiel during the entire day.

No matter, it was irritating enough being notified of this nearing one in the morning, this was interrupting his schedule as it was. Presumably, Castiel and company were hours out already, and his children seemed reluctant to report what happened, no doubt expecting him to be angry.

He was, actually, disappointed.

What a shame it was that Castiel had made this choice, he had disappointed him yet again. This time, it was entirely his decision, too, it was not him casting him aside.

"What do you want to do, father? You told Dean it was Cas' choice if he left."

"That I did. And he had Sierra cover his night, planned everything to spare me any grief or blow to our operation. How thoughtful of the angel."

"So, we just let him go?"

"Mm, no… no, I don't think so. I honoured my end of the deal as long as he did. And I won't condemn him for his choice. In fact, since he seems to like making choices so much, send someone to talk to him, to make another choice. I'm sure he'll love it."

Meg arched a brow, waiting patiently for what was to come, Tom having already scampered away. He was always the more timid of the two, maybe it was his younger age, maybe he was just a wuss, Meg did not to think on it too much.

"Have him choose between his precious Dean or beloved twin Jimmy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I have any real notes to make here. 
> 
> Hooray for getting out of all that for them, boo for what Alastair is planning as a sort of payback. The song Castiel sings is Rescue Me by Hawthorne Heights. I heard a song from their first album and it was like being back in the summer before fifth grade all over again. It seemed fitting, in a way, though from a different album.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are always side effects to drugs and Dean never wants to see what they can do ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tad late, or early, I suppose, depending how you see it. This chapter hasn't been edited or anything, typos and the like are expected, I actually don't have anyone check it over for mistakes. I know some people have someone do that for them for every chapter they post and plan the storyline every step of the way, but I don't know many people here, so I don't have that. And I'm so tired, that probably added to mistakes, I really need sleep;;
> 
> Anyway, I just want to mention something before you read. I've read a lot about meth users and what can happen, but I'm in no way saying this is what for sure happens and all. I can count the amount of meth users I've known personally on one hand. And where I work, we don't usually get a lot of meth addicts or addicts, despite the fact that one of the things it prides itself in specialising in is substance abuse. Heroin addicts, I've seen plenty come and go, but meth, no. So, the portrayal is not on point, maybe it never will be, but it's what can be done with what's provided.
> 
> That said, enjoy! :D

Three hours felt like a lifetime, not that it got them far enough from Alastair and his slimy ways. Somehow, it felt far enough for Castiel to tell Charlie to pull into a gas station, it was important, he was not feeling well, he had to go to the restroom, any reason he could come up with to convince her that they had to pull over into a nearby Gas-n-Sip. With the engine cut off, he clambered out once Dean did, being sat in the middle, and stretched, allowing his back to crack and letting out a long sigh.

"That all you needed?"

"Amongst other things, yes. I'm going to the restroom."

What was Dean supposed to say to that? No, because he knew what he was going to do? If he denied Castiel that, he would be putting everyone in the car at a potential risk, who knew what the hell he might do if he did not get his fix now. Sadly, he had to let him go, not having the energy to smile back at Castiel before he left.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

Emeralds slid along to Jimmy, who was walking up to him, more preoccupied with watching his twin wander off, frowning.

"Yeah. Been doing it every few hours now."

Jimmy's frown only deepened, arms crossing as Castiel turned the corner to get to the bathroom, disappearing from his sight. Why he thought that was so stomach churning to witness, like he was disappearing altogether from his life, he rather not consider. They had been through this before and they made it out relatively unscathed, they could do it again.

They had to.

"I don't like you."

Dean raised a brow at how blunt the other was, how he looked him right in the eyes and stated this with the conviction he did. Must be a trait the brothers shared or something and it left him a little speechless because what could he say, he did not like himself either? Good to know?

"But Castiel does. He has faith in you and that's a lot more than he's ever given anyone outside our family. I don't know why he does, but I'll respect that. Doesn't mean I respect you, not yet. I'll skip the rest of the spiel, but I won't skip bashing your head in if you do him any wrong, ask the kid who broke into my house."

He had to come to terms with the fact that he could be perhaps a little far on the violent spectrum when push came to shove, no matter if it threw him off balance upon discovering it. And, Jimmy did not know whether or not he would literally bash the guy's head in, that could have been the adrenaline for all he knew. Probably not very Christian of him to threaten the man, it actually was not at all, but he was human, he had flaws, and really, it was to get a point across, words were a powerful thing when utilised correctly. Like he had said, his brother had done what needed to be done for their family and he would do the same.

Sure, sometimes he did act on that in a bit of a societally deemed wrong way, and in many other ways deemed wrong, though it was a sort of means to an end, it was the only way in that moment and Castiel could not shoulder that burden all on his own.

What were brothers for, right?

The mechanic kept an eye on Jimmy as he went to find Castiel right after his last word, blinking and the words sank in. The kid at his house, with the fucked up face, that had been Jimmy's work? All this time, he had assumed it was Castiel that left both those men that way, that he thought it necessary in the moment and hell, if Dean was in his shoes with his family on the line, he might have messed them up more. It never occurred to him that Jimmy might have stepped in, that Castiel had somehow been cornered or something and his brother did that. Perhaps a part of that was because Castiel had spoken of Jimmy in such high regard, telling him more than once that everyone had said Jimmy was the good twin, the peaceful, passive one, not a fuck up like him, he never considered that he had it in him.

Shit, he had to revise what he said back then, he had to remind himself not to piss either of them off.

"Dean, can I talk to you?"

As long as it was not Charlie telling him that she had to murder someone to procure those pills and throw him for another loop, he was all up for some kind of talk. Charlie had urged him away from the car and found that the pay phone near the entrance to the mart was a good a place as any.

"What's up?"

"You know how you said Cas uses amphetamines, right? And I said he told me that and showed me?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I kind of took some from him and before you yell at me, I didn't do anything with them." To prove her point, the baggie she had was produced, looking relatively untouched, "… That's a lie, I guess, sorry. I did do something, but it was just testing what it actually was. Cas told me he used to pop them in pill form, not like this, and just the way he talked about it and how this looked didn't sit right with me."

Dean took the drugs from her, feeling about ten times more ill than when he was simply looking at them, the white powder looking as deceptively innocuous as could be and if it were not for a lack of food and a very strong will, he might have puked.

"This is… are you sure?"

"Yeah. Best meth you can get in Pontiac and surrounding areas."

Fuck.

Fucking shit, fuck life. His hand clenched into a fist around the plastic baggie, teeth gritted and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"Alastair lied to him." Somehow, he was not as surprised as one might think. Pissed off as hell, yes, but not surprised. "And Cas has no idea he's been doing this all along… he said he wasn't ever going to try meth again." Actually, entertaining the idea that what if Castiel knew, it was a gross thought that he still would have done it, would have gone back on what he told himself if it was what was necessary.

"Sorry, Dean. But, I mean, I know it's not a good thing to have found out, but at least we know it didn't kill him like he thought it might if he tried it again. And now we can help him, right? Get him clean?"

There were not many positives in all of this, not much of a silver lining, though Charlie made a few good points. What if Dean never knew this and tried to get him to taper off, accidentally giving him amphetamines and it caused some sort of reaction that did land him in a hospital or even dead? He did not know a lot about illicit drugs, mainly knew about heroin, and still knew mixing and matching was not a good thing, it could kill someone, even the most hardcore of addicts.

And Castiel was not far gone, he could still save him.

"I'll–yeah, it'll be okay. We'll get him back to normal in no time at all. I've done it before, I can do it again. Why don't you get some snacks for the road, the Novak's might be hungry or something."

"You want anything?"

"Not hungry."

No, he would rather sit the fuck down right now and figure out what he was going to do about this.

Neither of them had mulled on the fact that whilst Amelia and Claire were in the Impala still, Castiel and Jimmy were out of their sight. And Castiel, he still was in the bathroom, that much was true. Jimmy, well, he was pressed up against the wall at the corner of the building, near the pay phone and at a loss of what to think or say. Originally, he did enter the bathroom, Castiel facing away from him and as soon as he had called his name, his response was "You should get out, brother, shouldn't see this."

Of course, he refused.

Never had he actually seen his brother take anything, it was only the effects of it, and the idea of witnessing it was heartbreaking and a bit frightening to him, that it would somehow make it too real, more than he ever thought possible. Yet, he felt he should, that it would help Castiel out. Never did he say it, not directly, but Jimmy had a strong hunch that his brother had the stupid idea that if he saw him do it, he might think less of him. If he saw it and was able to show that no, he loved him all the same, did not think him scum of the earth, maybe it would ease his thoughts.

But when Castiel had said "Jimmy, _please,"_ in that horrible, broken up tone of his and refused to turn to face him, he began to doubt that it would do more good than it would harm him. So, he relented for the time being, pausing at the door.

"I love you, Castiel. Always."

Maybe that was all he could do for the time being.

At least, that was what he thought up until he heard Dean and Charlie. He did not make it a habit to eavesdrop on people all the time and really, he was not planning to then, they just started talking and he had not wanted to pop up around the corner awkwardly.

A good decision made, he thought, with what he learnt.

To tell Castiel what he found out should have been the first on his list to do, that was the logical course of action. Then he thought of that day he ran into the hanger, Castiel half-conscious and looking like death warmed over, about how delirious he was on the ride home, mumbling nonsense and bursting out in sporadic giggles before growing disturbingly quiet and suddenly the logical course of action seemed very, very illogical.

"Did you need to use the restroom?"

An arm slung over his shoulders and there was Castiel, smiling at him, all traces of his previous conflict gone and as twisted and disgusting of a human being it may have made him, Jimmy preferred this than what he saw that day.

"No. Just wanted to see you."

Who would choose to see their brother at death's door?

Castiel dropped a kiss on his temple and steered them back to the car, releasing his brother to be able to talk to Dean, mimicking how he was leaning against the trunk and craning his head back to see the stars.

"We need to stay here. Not here, here, at the Gas-n-Sip, of course, nothing worthwhile here. Just, the area."

"Cas, we can't. We don't know if Alastair knows we're gone and is sending someone after us, we have to keep going."

"They need to keep going. They're innocent. They haven't done anything wrong, they should go, wherever you were sending them to be safe. But us… we have to end this, before it gets worse." Castiel did not look away from the sky, he was able to reach out without doing so and take Dean's hand. "This is as much my problem as it is yours now. You can't do this alone and neither can I. If this is to be finished, once and for all, it'll take both of us. And I trust you, Dean. Do you trust me?"

The ATC did tear his gaze away for this, noting that Dean may not have been saying anything at all aloud, though his eyes were doing enough talking for him to know the answer.

"Yeah, Cas. I trust you."

"Then let's tell Charlie."

Dean was in charge of doing so and as he did so, Castiel pulled out their bags and got everything they required. Needless to say, in that time, Jimmy did voice his protests.

"This is insane, Castiel! We barely got away from Alastair and now you want to charge in, head first, at another drug ring? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Have faith, Jimmy. Isn't that what you always tell me?"

"And then you never have any!"

"I don't believe like you do, so I don't have such faith in our Lord and Saviour. But, I'm asking you to have faith in me. I'll come back to you, I promised I would."

They both had always kept their promises to each other, no matter how ridiculous they were and Jimmy knew that. When they were younger, everyone had made fun of him and his fear of drowning because it was so irrational how it came to be, there was no possible way he was ever going to drown in a kiddie pool or shallow river that he could not possibly fall into. Instead of going with the crowd and telling him that, how impossible it was, Castiel had begged their mother to take him for swimming lessons and always practiced, even to this day, no matter how many times Jimmy said it was fine now, he was not scared–well, maybe a little, but no one really _liked_ the prospect of drowning–but he said he had promised to always be prepared to save him and he was going to keep to it.

It was in the same manner that Jimmy would go every Saturday, without fail, to the ice cream parlour they always went to as kids, ordered a sundae and ate it all himself then went and got two gum balls from the machine. And he would watch them roll their way down, down, down, until clinking against the opening and texted Castiel which colour won this time before chewing both to tastelessness. Even with how they sometimes hit economical snags growing up sometimes, they would always do this and when Castiel left Pontiac to pursue his career, he mentioned how he would miss that, how much it meant to him and more. So, he had promised he would keep doing it for both of them. Probably rotting his teeth steadily and with the years going by, all that sugar going in was not as appetising as it was ten or so years ago, though he promised and he would do it until he could no more.

Knowing that, it was not like he could say he was not going to do his damnedest to keep to it. Not that he liked it any, either, and he did want to smack him silly and stay with him to watch over him.

… Actually, that last bit would work.

The promise was he would come back to them. Them, as in his family, a family that was more than just him. And, if he was with him, he still had to get back to Amelia and Claire and their mother. Thank God their mother was not with them or ever involved, he did not think any of them would survive if she was. Getting back to the point, he could do that, stay with him. That way, he would not be too reckless and if he needed help, he could provide it.

To do that, he had to be kind of sneaky. It did not come naturally to him, Amelia was right, he sucked at lying. A different way would have to be gone about, which started with him nodding at Castiel's words.

"I do have faith in you, that's never going to change."

Maybe he was actually pretty decent at lying, not that he lied about the faith part, or maybe Castiel was too strung out to notice what he was planning. Either way, it helped him out and they all said their goodbyes, Dean and Castiel walking off to find a means of transportation. When they did, he turned to Charlie.

"How about I drive? You don't look like you've gotten much sleep."

"I don't know. Dean's pretty picky about who drives his car."

"Dean isn't here and it's not going to do us any good if you fall asleep at the wheel. Map out the route on your phone and I can do the rest."

Charlie's phone was vital to this, she mentioned some sort of tracking app and it was probably still on his brother, that would help him out a lot, he would not have to wander around aimlessly. She accepted his stand on why he should drive, taking the passenger seat as Amelia sat in the back with Claire and bringing up the GPS for him with the quickest way to their destination.

Now, it was all a matter of how long she took to fall asleep.

To be safe, Jimmy waited an hour, purposely adhering to every possible driving law to stall and found himself at another stop by the time he thought it alright. Amelia, as always, knew something was up.

"What're you going to do?"

"I need to be with him, he's not going to take care of himself otherwise."

Naturally, with the circumstances being what they were, he was waiting for some kind of protest that it was too dangerous, he was being unreasonable, things of that nature. Instead, Amelia was reaching for the phone with the map, concentrating on it before her hand was held out.

"Give me the phone she gave you, I'll be expecting you to call every day, to know you're all okay. _No_ exceptions, Jimmy."

Truly, there were no words to express how much he loved her.

Leaving without saying a proper goodbye to Claire was difficult, leaving them altogether was worse. They were going to be safe, he repeated to himself, what he was doing would keep Castiel safe, it would all work out in the end.

Now, he just had to get this app working and hitch a ride.

Or find a car, but that could be a last resort type deal.

 

\---

 

"You doing alright?"

"Yes. It's just… too slow."

"You can't expect places like this to run their A game all the time, buddy."

Dean was certain Castiel was going to blow a gasket or two if the person who ran this motel did not show up soon. He did his best to help, kept him moving, rubbed his arm, anything he could think of when finally the guy showed up and made his way to the desk.

"We need a room."

Just jump right into it, alright. The guy did not look offended by it, was actually really mellowed out, took one look at Castiel and gave a long, _"Ohh,_ okay, gotcha, coming right up." And that was strange, how easy that was and his expression, until he really took a look at Castiel. His skin was flushed and he was sweating profusely, breath coming out in rapid puffs as he fidgeted. It was not possible for him to grab that key and enter the room with Castiel any faster, guiding him to sit down.

"Cas, what's going on? Talk to me."

"I-I don't… w-what's happening?"

His heart was going to explode, his lungs were expanding too much, contracting too much, everything was too much, he tugged at his hair, the burn of it not enough and he wheezed, nothing was good enough to take it away.

"Deep breaths, man. Deep breaths with me. Fuck… stay with me."

His hand moved up to the other's forehead and he cursed, he was burning up. Removing his jacket and shirt, he heard a shaky laugh rattle out of him.

"N-not the best time… for s-sex, D-Dean."

"I'd be much smoother if I wanted sex, Cas. Right now, I'm more worried about keeping you cooled down." Standing him up, the ATC went along and fumbled with his jeans, fingers twitching and he was eventually left in only his boxers. "Lay down, I'm going to get something to help." That was a hard thing to do for him and he saw the struggle to follow his instruction, hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, relaxing then repeating the process.

Ice, he needed ice. Or something just as good. He left the room after grabbing one of the bins and made his way to the soda machine, ice machine right beside it. There was probably a bucket designated for ice that he missed in his rush, but whatever held the damn stuff was good enough for him and he bought a water bottle to take back to him.

Good, he was still laying down, although fidgeting more and his palms were pressed against his eyes, jaw clenched. The way his chest would rise and fall seemed to take a strenuous toll on him and fuck, what went wrong? Did he take too much or too soon? All these thoughts and none were helping him, the ice he wrapped up in one of the provided towels and placed over his forehead was helping some, he also liked to believe that holding his hand helped.

"Just keep talking to me, talk about anything. Or I'll talk, whatever you want."

"I haven't… haven't been like this since-since I was nineteen. Hah… f-fuck, I thought… thought I was dying. Am I dying? F-feels like I am…"

"You're not dying, not on my watch. But you got to be honest with me, how much did you have, before we left?"

Castiel shifted, free hand reaching out to his jacket that Dean picked up for him and pulled a bag out of his pocket. It was nearly empty and Castiel pinched a spot, hand dropping to clench the towel. "That much. It's… it's a lot, in case you don't know. Y-you don't, right? You said Sam… he did heroin, right? It's a lot different."

"I've heard. But, excessive use is the same amount of dangerous no matter the drug. You got to take it down a notch, stop this. This isn't you, Cas, not anymore."

"Easier said… than done, isn't that the saying?"

"Yeah. But you said Jimmy and Amelia were there last time for you. I guess I'll have to do this time."

"Such negative wording… I will never understand you, Dean Winchester."

"We can play Dr. Phil later. How about you tell me your plan, huh?"

He had to momentarily let go of his hand, replace the ice as he checked how he was doing. Better, not optimal yet and Castiel could not stay still, yet making a valiant effort. At least he was not getting closer to frying his brain or anything and he opened his eyes long enough to squint at him, see where his hand was and take it, using the hand that had previously been holding the towel and the fact that it was cold did not bother Dean.

"I have a friend here, his… his name is Inias. We went to school together. And I-I know you don't like it… but if we want to keep everyone off our trail… cars won't work, too many issues."

Fuck.

"You're talking about a plane?"

"Yes. He has a plane we can use. I'd… I'd fly it myself, spare him involvement but… wouldn't you know, I-I fucked up? Heh… I  
could still get us in the air and on the ground, sure. Though I know Inias well… actually _really_ well… that's besides the point. What I mean is I can't-he wouldn't let me take off, not like this. No sound minded pilot would."

Hell, Dean was not a pilot and he would not either. There was no need for a repeat of what he told him happened. And, even if he agreed with the plan–which, not really, because planes–there were plenty of issues to deal with. Were Castiel capable of flying a plane, he was pretty sure there were some set of protocols that had to be followed or else why the hell would planes take so damn long to take off? That would give away their position and another pilot would have to be brought into the equation.

It was bad enough that Dean was dragging people in, Castiel did not have to either. As if sensing this turmoil, the other squeezed his hand, smiling shakily.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I can't… can't fly safely like this. Think I can… feel like I can do anything, everything, too much, actually. I tried it once before and put my instructor at risk. I couldn't do that to you… so maybe thinking that means I'm not as much of a mess as I thought." For being a happy drug, as he knew it, the meth was really screwing Castiel over in reflecting that. Due to what, who knew. Too much of it or a bad response to it, it could be his own suppressed emotions being amplified by it all, "Maybe it'd make it less daunting for you if I could fly… you said you trust me. That's why… I need you to trust me on this, trust when I say Inias is good at what he does, he can help."

Dean's first thought that he blurted out was clearly, "Shit… that's asking a lot, Cas." Because, it kind of was, making him face a very real borderline phobia of his. Not to mention shoving another into all this, another who could be hurt if it was known he helped them.

Then again, did he not do the same to Castiel?

Dean had shoved him into all this the moment he sent them both to the ground, the other unsuspecting of him then and even seeing the handcuff on him, he treated him like any other. And now that he thought about it, perhaps it was not as bad as his deal with planes, Castiel had to face something he was aversive to, that he had wanted to do nothing with anymore. Yet, here he was, dealing with it, carrying on doggedly and no less dedicated to what he had promised to help with.

It was the least he could do, right?

"… Alright. We'll talk to him."

If he could get on the plane without accidentally peeing his pants, he would really appreciate that.

There was time to psyche himself up, all the way until morning then however long it took to get to Inias, get him to help and all that plane stuff they did. The whole night, he was more preoccupied with Castiel, making sure he was alright and as much as he knew he would much rather be moving about, his heart rate was too fast, he worried if he let him try and blow off steam, that might make it too much to bear. Hopefully, that was the right thing to do and was not actually killing him. Researching this was the ideal thing to do, an impossible ideal with no laptop or phone equipped for such.

Instead, he stayed up all night, monitoring the other even as he managed to fall asleep and being as paranoid as he possibly could be whenever he stopped moving. Fuck, it was never quite so hard with Sam. Then again, Sam was sent off to rehab to clean his act up or it was his choice, something that had been insulting to him back then because he thought he was fully capable of getting his brother back.

Staring at it good and proper in the face, with limited resources available to him, he relented he may not have been as capable as he thought.

When morning came, Castiel woke up and seemed considerably more oriented, it was probably just an extreme shock the amount he had and went sideways into some sort of bad acid trip. Or something like that, every drug seemed to do something different and Dean could not keep up with it all. Point was, he was in a decent enough spot now that he felt it reasonable to leave Castiel alone with the instructions to shower and for the love of fucking God, please do not snort any drugs right now.

Whether or not he acknowledged that last part, he would have to see once he got back to the motel room. The trip to a diner for food was not long, reading over the menu and choosing something that was easily consumed and digested was. It was no accident that he walked into the first hippie-dippie diner he saw, they usually had those smoothie type deals health nuts went on about, right? Sam sure talked his ear off about them, so healthy and could be sucked through a straw if necessary was helpful. Except, there were a lot of options and some of the things listed, he was uncertain of.

Who the hell puts bee pollen into their smoothie?

And who the fuck drinks kale for breakfast?

Eventually, a worker came up to him and asked what he was looking for. Blurting out someone he knew was being screwed over by meth was not going to help any, so he told her a friend of his was working on detoxing, a close enough to the truth if there ever was one. She pointed to one and chattered on about the benefits, most of which went over his head and he really just wanted the damn thing and a breakfast sandwich to go.

He did not fault her on her enthusiasm, it was part of the job and she might actually be big on health, either of the two had him leaving her a tip before heading back to the motel. Castiel had already gotten out of the shower by then, dressed and a bit agitated, for lack of a better word. Looking at the sheets that had been ripped off the bed and overall disarray of the room, Dean was expecting a hole in the wall somewhere and he would bet his money if it would be anywhere, it would be where Castiel was squatted by the wall, doing something he could not see.

"You took too long."

"Yeah, well, first times always take long. What're you doing down there?"

"Checking for bugs."

"This place probably isn't even a one star on Yelp, you got to expect a few crickets and ants."

How Castiel got up was in painful looking jerks, his body not getting all of the message his brain was trying to send out in time and he made his way to him, holding up a strange little square that was cracked down the middle and kept together with his fingers.

"Like these, Dean. What if–he could know, what if he knows? Not just us, what if he's following them back to Kansas?"

Charlie mentioned a tracking device and it was never mentioned since then. Stupid to assume that Castiel knew about it, tracking was meant to be secretive and all. Setting the paper bag down, he took the broken device and exchanged it for the cup filled with smoothie goodness.

"That was Charlie. She put it on you to figure out where we were because she wanted to pick us up there, the motel was easier."

Castiel blinked.

"… When I hugged her."

"Sounds about right. Don't worry about it, they're safe, okay? Probably already in Lawrence with Ellen, safe and sound."

Life really had bad timing, like when he was trying to reassure a very paranoid and jumpy Castiel that everything was alright and someone had to go knocking at the door. The strangest part was it was not a normal knock, not three solid knocks. It was one knock, followed by three swift ones, then five in what was a generally rhythmic way.

In no way was that the harbinger of death, those knocks, to Dean. They may as well have been to Castiel, whose expression crumbled into one of abject horror and he nearly tripped over himself getting to the door and swinging it open, wishing that all he was looking at was a mirror that showed how he might look if he was a better person, not drenched in the vile that was drugs and every other crappy thing he had done in his life.

"What're you doing here?"

Alas, this was not such a mirror.

"Good morning to you too, brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes… notes, I don't know. 
> 
> I'm sad, having to put Castiel through that, it's a very sad thing to see someone go through, even if just in writing. 
> 
> Jimmy and Dean are there for him though, so good for him, having support through it all.
> 
> And I try to slip in happy memories or funny things, hopefully lightens the mood a bit;;


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is going according to their new plan until life decides to be a bitch to them all. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, two chapters in one day. This was actually meant to all be one chapter, when the pieces were in my head. But, as I wrote, it was about 11,000 words or so and that seemed a little much for one chapter, so I found a good point in the middle to break it up and here's the next half.
> 
> Feel free to mention typos or comment what you think.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Castiel was something like shell shocked about this sudden development and Jimmy was not surprised, not really, because who would ever expect him to do this? He was the apparent good one, who went along with all the rules for the most part and had never "succumbed to temptation" or whatever was spouted off about his brother. And, some of the things said about him were not far from the truth, he would never do this merely for the thrill, the rush, he was happy with that being something like not knowing what was going to be for dinner or who was going to win the raffle at work.

Just as that was truth, so was how no extent was too far when it came to any member of his family.

Yes, he had to do a few questionable things in this time that made him uneasy, and yes, those things might haunt him for awhile, but what were a few small demons here and there that he could manage and defeat compared to the one that would never leave him if he did not do what he could to protect his family?

Not too much of a hard choice to make there.

"Are we going to just stand here or are you going to let me in?"

Whatever answer or lack thereof he got, he did step inside, closing the door and taking Castiel's hand to lead him to the bed and sit down, giving a short, "Hello again," to Dean and that was it. The mechanic was a little stumped himself on how the male found them. He was not stuck in such a stupor as Castiel, however, and was all up for questioning him.

"How did you find us? Better yet, how did you get Charlie to let you go?"

Jimmy had dropped his bag to the floor and all but shoved an iPhone into his hands, checking his brother over as he answered, "I used the thing she slipped onto him, found my way here before the signal died. By the time she woke up, they were probably already where you sent them. And no, I didn't drug her, I offered to drive so she could sleep and Amelia took over when I left."

The phone had an app with a similar looking square that Castiel had broken and the phone and message icons both had notifications, a lot of them, that no doubt were from Charlie. To ease her conscience, he sent her a text to let her know he was with them, hearing Castiel talking all the while.

"Shouldn't be here, Jimmy. It's not safe, not at all. What about Amelia and Claire? They need you. You have to be safe…"

"Have faith."

What the words "have faith" truly meant to the brothers, Dean had no idea. Far more meaningful than on the surface, that was certain, and Castiel let out a few deep breaths then nodded. That was enough of whatever twin mojo went down, Jimmy taking the smoothie and talking him into drinking it before he turned to Dean.

"Missouri then."

"That's where we are."

"Is he trying to get in touch with Inias? Or Hannah? I think she's still stationed here, her transfer hasn't gone through yet."

"Inias. Says he has a plane."

"Ah. And he wants to fly to LA, I take it? Smart, easier to manage and avoid detection."

Seriously, there had to be some mind reading there with how quickly he dissected the plan and gave his input on what Dean was offering, with a few things sounding like gibberish to him, damn plane lingo or something. In the end, they made it as far as actually making it to LA when Castiel stood up, the smoothie gone, and began packing.

"If we expect to get there, it might be prudent to get to Inias first."

Good point.

Once everything was packed, Jimmy had pulled Dean aside as Castiel wandered out of the room.

"How bad was he?"

Blunt, as always.

"Not psychotic, if that's what you're asking. He told me about before, so I've kept him fed. Didn't look so great, though."

He could be blunt, too.

"I see. That's…" He trailed off and was given no grief on it when he began on a new topic, "Since we're going to see Inias, I imagine we'll need a vehicle and you'll be getting it for us. Could you-I need to talk to him, alone."

"Yeah, yeah, I can go. I won't be gone long, though."

"That's fine. I'll be quick."

Purposely lingering to check his bag, walking as slow as he could and taking his time choosing a good car to take back, he liked to think he gave him enough time to do whatever he needed to do. Most likely did, Castiel looked disgruntled now more than shocked, picking at his nails the whole ride and not sitting still, eyes wandering around every which way and Jimmy was slumped in the back seat, dozing in and out of sleep, hands shoved in his pockets.

This was an awkward ride.

Luckily, it did not last long and they were pulling into a dead end street, stopping at the house at the very end. Castiel got out and smacked his hand against the roof of the car, starling Jimmy awake and he snickered at the glare, unfazed by its intensity and what the hell? What Castiel was he going to get next, Dean had no clue, he only knew he linked arms with him and walking down the pathway to ring the doorbell. A man opened the door, took one look at them and gave a short huff of a laugh.

"Castiel. You're okay."

Castiel grinned, of course, and nodded.

"Hi."

Seeing as this guy had no qualms about hugging him, Dean figured this was Inias and waved at him when he regarded him.

"Hey. Sorry for dropping by unannounced like this, not really a smart thing to announce ourselves right now."

"I understand. Dean, correct? I saw you, on the news." For seeing him on the news with all they were saying about him, he sure was chummy from the get go, Castiel being there and bringing him was likely why. Inias looked passed both of them, "Oh, Jimmy's with you, too? They didn't say that on the news. It seems we have a lot to talk about. Come in, Anna's already left for work."

And that was how Dean found himself in this cozy home, sitting on a couch with a cup of coffee in hand, listening to Castiel explain the situation to Inias, who did not bat an eye once at any detail given.

Impressive, Dean had to give him that.

When it was all said and done, the man sipped his coffee, stood up and left momentarily before coming back with some folded up map. It was opened up to its entirety and lost him the moment it was with the different markings and symbols and such.

"Where did you want me to land? There are a few I can think of nearby, but you know them better than I do."

Castiel handed his cup over to his brother to hold before leaning over the map, finger gliding along until stopping at some spot that, to Dean, looked no different than any other spot around.

"There. Brackett should be a good location, I've been there enough to know how it operates."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay and help?"

"You're doing more than I can repay you for already, my friend."

It was more than Dean was comfortable with, too, offering them an actual place to stay for the time being. Inias insisted, given that they had spare bedrooms and surely, it must be better than whatever hotel they were at. Loads better, he had to admit, though he would take it if it kept people at a safer distance. Somehow, the twins did not fight him on the offer much and they knew him better, he could not argue with it confidently.

Jimmy had one of the spare rooms and they took the other, with the other glaring at him when the choice was made and geez, it was not like Dean was going to do anything. This sentiment was not shared by Castiel, quite the opposite, because as soon as they brought their bags in, personal space ceased to exist and wow, that was one hell of a kiss he gave.

"Cas, I–fucking shit-wait a sec."

Before his goddamn shirt ripped because he had grown fond of it.

"Yes, Dean?"

Carefully, he grabbed his wrists and brought his hands down from where they were snaking up under his shirt.

"I'm glad you're good now. But, I mean, your brother is down the hall." A really teenage sounding excuse, but he had given him that look, "And, this is your friend's place and you kind of are still on stuff, what if this, uh, well, doing this is too much right now?"

The look Castiel gave him was hilariously misplaced, somehow, exasperated at something he could not believe he just said and rolling his eyes.

"Dean, I fucked plenty when 'on stuff.'" He pulled his hands away to actually do air quotes and it made it about ten times less serious and five times more ridiculous. "My brother can be his moody self about you, but he does not dictate when I can and cannot have sex, especially when I have told you before I want this. I want to make you feel good."

There should have been more resistance in him, there really should have been, and instead he watched Castiel as he smiled and pressed a kiss to his jaw and hello, his hand shoved down his unbuttoned and unzipped–when the fuck did he do that?–jeans and boxers and closed around him like howdy do, his smile becoming a hell of a lot more of a predatory smirk.

_"Mine."_

Fuck.

 

\---

 

Even if Inias knew what was going on, not a word was said, he simply kept busy double checking his flight plan and making a few calls. On the other hand, Jimmy felt like he was sixteen again, sprawled out on the bed and pillow over his face because he did not need to hear a single thing that happened, not at all. Now, he could not even go out for a walk or anything, that might be dangerous, he could get in trouble, and ugh, why did Castiel have to like Dean?

If he did not, there was the chance none of this would have ever happened. He would still be back in California, Jimmy in Pontiac and they would be keeping in contact and all he would really have to go on a tangent about was that Balthazar and how inappropriate he was.

How was Balthazar, he wondered.

Oh God, he was desperate for a distraction if he was actually thinking this as his priority.

In all seriousness, Balthazar might be useful with this. He practically lived with Castiel, he should know what had happened since he left. Taking out the phone and dialling the number, he was ready to throw it at a wall after the third wrong number–hey, he did not memorise every single number out there–and by the fifth time, he heard that accented voice of his.

"Balthazar's house of delights, can I interest you in our new Softee Super Dildo today?"

"That's disgusting, Balthazar. I see you still don't have any manners."

"Oh fuck, Jimmy?"

"Eloquent. Yes, it's me. It's good?"

The last thing they needed was to be listened in on or the call traced, though Charlie seemed confident it could not be.

"Yes, good. Perfect. Jesus, are you well? Have you talked to Castiel?"

"I'm fine, so is he. I think it's better if you know less about that. You do need to tell me what's going on over there. Are they still searching?"

"No. No, I don't think so. After that stint at City Hall, some officers came to search and ask questions, typical ones. Some shady people, too, were around, landlord gave them the boot. Why? Is he coming back? Does he need anything?"

"I can't tell you, I'm sorry. I can tell you I might be going over there. There's a few things I need to do and figure out."

"Do you need anything, then?"

"Yes, actually. I need you to look up someone, his name is Sam Winchester."

Castiel had let it slip out about Dean's little brother and Jimmy was not going to use him against the man or anything, he doubt anything he might do could drive him to such a horrible point. No, he only wanted to talk to him, see if there was anything he could do. Those two thought they could deal with it on their own and maybe they could, it would take time was all. And it was not entirely that Jimmy could be impatient, it was also that he considered the long term effects of what this could do to them.

What if they did clear their names, but so much time passed and acts committed that they were no longer viewed as people, lowered to the status and treatment that many applied to convicts? Sam, Castiel said, was a lawyer. Lawyers fought things like this on a daily basis, yes? Reasonably, Sam could help, could speed the process along and do it in such a way that did not test the legality of the system each time.

Jimmy was not fit for this particular way of doing things, maybe Sam would help with a way he was more familiar with.

"Sam Winchester… okay. I gather I'm not supposed to ask?"

"Not right now. Not until I'm sure of this."

"Alright, I'll do it. You have to do something for me, in exchange."

Typical.

"What do you want?"

"Tell him I miss him. Queen does, too, she meowed incessantly the first few days. And to be careful, whatever he's doing."

"I'll tell him."

Ending the call, he saved the number to spare himself the trouble of remembering again and without the Brit talking or pillow over his face, he heard the repetitive thump, thump, thump and explicits in the other room and grabbed his shoe, throwing it at the wall.

"Shut up, damn it!"

Like high school all over again, seriously.

 

\---

 

"Ah, fuck… f-fuck, _Dean…"_

Dean snorted in amusement as Castiel pounded his fist against the wall and kept talking, the man grinning when he finally heard his brother throw a second object and they heard a muffled, "I'm serious, Castiel!" Flopping back on the bed, he chuckled and let out a sigh.

"Think you scarred him enough?"

"No more than usual."

Dean had to feel bad for the poor guy, he could only imagine what it was like to hear that coming from a sibling. That did not bother Castiel, who was happy to slip under the covers with Dean, though he did not seem happy about his arms, scratching at them.

"Dean, I need you to do something for me."

"Yeah?"

"Jimmy… he's not… this isn't what he's accustomed to. And he's smart, only… this is out of his depth." The scratching continued more fervently and the mechanic watched, bemused, "I need you to promise me you'll protect him, when I can't. Protect him like I would, no matter what. That means he's first, no matter what, doesn't matter what trouble I'm in. I can take care of myself."

When the lines went from white to and angry red, Dean stopped him from possibly mutilating his arm.

"What's going on?"

People did not start scratching themselves up after sex or when they started talking about their brother's safety.

"Nothing. Just… itchy. Really itchy. That's off topic. You haven't promised."

"I can promise I'll protect him, but I can't just not care about what's going on with you."

The ATC groaned in frustration and moved himself so he sat right on Dean without a care that they were both in their birthday suits, cupping his cheeks and leaning in.

"I'm not saying you cannot care, I'm saying he is always first. Even if he trips and I have a cut, you help him first. That'll help me. He's my twin brother, Dean, I cannot stand the thought of anything happening to him, especially because of me. I couldn't live with myself if that happens. _Please._ Say you will?"

This was a little unfair of how he was trying to swing things in his favour in more ways than one, but Dean was both not complaining and he could relate to where Castiel was coming from, the family first mentality. That was why he nodded and his answer was, "I promise." An answer that pleased Castiel and he showed it with a kiss, a smile and disappearing under the covers to really convey his gratitude.

 

\---

 

Suffice to say, Jimmy wanted out.

He got it when going with Inias to the store, a wee bit paranoid if someone stared too long and Inias assured him it was alright. The man was incredibly zen about all of this and he had to ask why that was.

"I've known Castiel for years now and he's always kept me on my toes, I suppose in a sense, this isn't all too different at its core."

How much Castiel omitted from his tales of school he would have to ask another day, preferably when all this was over with.

When they got back to Inias' house two and a half hours later–grocery shopping and tacking on other necessities was the worst, they concurred–Castiel and Dean were out of the room, watching television. They had gotten up to help with the groceries and everything went smoothly.

Not long after that, Anna arrived home. And she was just as relaxed about the whole thing, too, Jimmy noted. She greeted Castiel and him with a hug and kiss on the cheek, Dean got a handshake and a "pleased to meet you," before she began talking to her husband about what they would make for dinner tonight and if there was going to be enough for everyone.

It was weird.

At least Dean and Jimmy agreed on that, not expecting that level of hospitality when two were labelled dangerous and the other happened to be with them and helping them out. Castiel was unaffected by it, helping as he could and excusing himself a few times. Each time he came back, he was more irritable, snapping at him sometimes and other times simply discontent and always scratching.

As the hours passed, Dean saw that he made his way outside a few of the times he dismissed himself, staring up at the sky or going down the pathway repeatedly, frowning and fidgeting.

He ended up missing dinner.

And that was not something Dean could let go unchecked, he had to have food. Outside, Castiel was pressed against a tree, peering out into the street with narrowed eyes.

"Do you see something out there?"

"Shh."

Well, alright.

They both stayed where they were until Castiel finally spoke up.

"Can't you hear them?"

"Hear who?"

"They're out there. They're just- _mm, waiting."_ Castiel looked around and hissed, blunt nails raking down his arms, "I can _hear_ them, Dean. They're there. They can't fool me. I know they're there." Suddenly, he pushed off the tree and stormed down the street, shouting, "I _know_ you're there, you sons of bitches! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

He was hallucinating, delusional, paranoid, whatever it was, Dean was not keen on everyone on the street knowing and rushed over to wrap his arms around him, tugging him back and he kept on hollering things like, "You don't scare me! You're nothing but _insignificant specks!"_ or "Are you _afraid?_ Can't show yourselves? Fucking pathetic _pieces of shit!"_

Dean really wanted to stuff an apple or even a ball of yarn in his mouth to get him to stop. Jimmy had done nothing short of teleport by his side, helping him get him inside as he struggled against them and sparing no time once they were inside to push his brother's face onto his shoulder to muffle what he was saying.

"It's okay, Castiel. You're okay. They're not coming, you chased them away. It's okay. You're alright. They're not there anymore."

This was repeated over and over because what else could Jimmy do? Letting him go on his own, he would get hurt, attract people, possibly even hurt people. So, he took the screams and struggles, the attempts to hit him which Dean was helping immensely in keeping them back, he took it all until Castiel exhausted himself and was slumped against him, breathing hard and mumbling.

"You're safe, I'll keep you safe. I'll make sure nothing happens to you. You're here with me, brother."

Azures flicked up to emeralds and Jimmy nodded towards the bedroom, both of them leading him to it and onto the bed, at which point he asked Dean for whatever medical supplies they had to clean up the areas he had managed to break through skin and if he could be alone with him for now.

Dean complied.

Also, he was… something. Not frightened by that, per say, nor was it necessarily sad about it. An in between, he might say. When Castiel had mentioned how it was getting off the drugs the first time around, it sounded tough, no doubt. Painful to go through, to watch, to be exposed to it in general. However, thinking about it and experiencing it first hand were two totally different things, it was stupid how some people could honestly say they were similar.

Then he thought about Sam.

Sam, who he never really got to see during his rehabilitation. Sure, he saw how he was on heroin and he was the one who found him that night and had to call the ambulance, he did all of that. That was all, though, he saw him in the hospital, then Sam told him he was going to get help and he would see him later, when he was better. None of the horrors he went through were something he was exposed to. He read about it, yes, he read a lot about heroin, to educate himself because even if he was slow on the uptake about the gravity of his addiction and all it meant for his brother, he was going to learn about everything.

Maybe it was also his way of dealing and trying to figure out where he had possibly gone wrong with his brother, where did he personally fuck up that Sam thought it was a good idea to do that. Did he neglect him? Say something ignorantly thoughtless and it stuck with him all these years? Was he just a shitty brother? What was it?

Like any Winchester would do, all this was under lock and key, he let it fester in him until the festering became a natural part of him. He never asked Sam how it was wherever he went to get better, what he dealt with, he just went with his dad to see him once he was out, made an inappropriately timed joke and they carried on.

Jesus, did Sam go through that?

Who was there with him?

Did he have someone like Jimmy, all understanding and shit?

Fuck, he hoped he did and did not deal with it on his own, no one deserved to go through that alone.

Hours passed by, or it felt like it, before Jimmy came out of the room and made his way to the living room, collapsing onto the armchair. Anna and Inias had retired to their room, to give a sense of privacy, he imagined, and that was appreciated.

"How's he now?"

"Asleep, for the most part. He should be okay for awhile, might make it until we get to the plane."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I'll figure it out." Jimmy pinched the bridge of his nose and relaxed into the armchair, "You should go with him, get some sleep now. Call if you need anything."

There was no room for argument and hell, he was not going to protest to his four hours. The room itself was dark as could be, with Dean fumbling his way to the bed and taking a moment to look at Castiel with the limited light he had. Given how he looked outside, he was a lot better now. Very peaceful and not hyperventilating or anything. His arms were not so great, there were a few gauze squares held down by medical tape.

They would heal, same as everything else.

Sleep was the first step.

Four hours, more or less, he assumed passed when he was being shaken awake by Castiel.

"Dean. Dean, wake up. We have to go. It's time. Inias has already left to get everything ready and Jimmy's taken our bags to the car."

Groaning at the cruelty of lights being flipped on, he reached out blindly to pat his arm, feeling material he was not familiar with and once adjusting to the light, saw it was that trench coat he saw Jimmy wear the first time he saw him.

Must be a comfort thing.

"Yeah, I'm up."

Not that he had any choice.

Up and about in no time, Dean got his boots, laced them up and after he was assured that there was a note left thanking Anna for letting them stay, he was back in the driver's seat.

"Tell me where to go."

At first, Castiel was able to do it, direct him where to go. Eventually, however, his words began to degrade into unrelated statements and he began to press the heel of his palms into his eyes, repeating himself.

"They're back, they're here. God, shut up! Get off of me!"

"Cas, hey, you're alright. Take it easy, we should be there soon. Just breathe."

Taking his eyes off the road was something he could do for a short time, the fact that the streets were relatively empty helped out, and he caught Jimmy unbuckling his seatbelt to lean forward and help out with him, giving him the direction, "Get on the bridge, it'll take us there quicker."

Jimmy drove more than Castiel and visited along with him, he knew what he was talking about.

That should be easy, they should have been cruising onto the bridge, gotten onto the right lane and smooth sailing. Except, Castiel suddenly straightened up and let out an ugly sound Dean would never be able to give a name to, eyes wide.

"No, no, _no!_ Get off of here, get off, get off! It's bad, bad! They're here, _get off!"_

Arm knocking his brother back, Castiel grabbed the wheel and jerked it to the side, the car swerving. Letting out a very appropriate _"Fuck!"_ Dean had to pry his hand off whilst adjusting them back on track, heart racing because holy shit, he could have sent them off the bridge.

"Damn it, Cas! Calm down, nothing's here!"

Jimmy successfully kept him in his seat, Castiel squirming the entire time and shouting.

"Get off! Get off, off! Leave me _alone!"_

"Damn it, take the next exit out!"

That should calm him down. What Jimmy could not figure out was what about the bridge had suddenly set him off. Maybe it was just bad timing of it all or he had a fear of bridges he never told him about, not likely since he was always the one telling him the bridge was not going to collapse on him.

It had been awhile since he was here, but there should be an exit right after passing the river.

There probably was, not that he got to find out.

Because, as suspicious as anything should be, this was a well travelled area, a few cars here and there were to be expected. Of course, there was only a specific kind of car that would be driving this late at night and ram right into their side, everything blipping out for a second as he heard the tires squeal from the loss of control and he was thrown across the backseat and smacked painfully against the window.

If he never saw another godforsaken black sedan, it would still be too soon.

The front on the car crashed into one of the trusses, which was not really relevant to anything beyond that it meant they could get out of the car.

"Cas? Dean? Are you alright?"

"I think so. Fuck, I'm going to kill that bastard."

Castiel, on the other hand, was staring out his window at the car that was far more well off than this one, unblinking.

"They're here… they're here."

"Castiel, we have to get out! Now!"

His attention was grabbed briefly, azures meeting an equally bright pair, blinking rapidly. Something shifted in them and he was suddenly unbuckling himself, trying to pry open his door.

"Jimmy, come on!"

Dean had gotten out already, offering his hand and he took it, head throbbing and it would do no good if he suddenly collapsed trying to make his way out. His brother had managed to wrench his door open, immediately stepping closer to the car and man who had stepped out, deliberately putting himself in between as much as he could.

"Ah, I'd stop right there if I were you."

If anything, the threat of a gun did manage to stop him. Castiel tilted his head, eyeing the object then the man.

"You're here. Why are you here? Not supposed to be here."

About to take another step, any thought of that was gone when the gun went over his shoulder and to the two behind him.

"Alastair sent me here to talk. He wanted me to thank you for you consideration. As a gift, to celebrate your choice, he's given you the chance to make another."

Castiel stared at the man, then the gun which was swaying side to side, alternating between the two males behind him.

"You have a choice, Castiel. One or two. Simple."

One or two?

The garbled noise was there again, annoying him, so annoying, and his skin was crawling, always crawling and this man was so, so stupid. They were going to come, he knew it. He knew they were out there, he knew it all along. They never showed up, never came when he called them out, always lurking, lurking in the shadows, little, tiny specks. So useless, so bothersome, so disgusting and pathetic, why were they even bothered with when they did not even know their names, called them one and two.

"They have names. Names are important. _Names._ They have names! They have _fucking names!_ They both have fucking names, you idiotic _toilet brush!"_

This man was honestly making him choose, like he was someone he could so easily threaten and he would fold, fall to his hands and knees, begging him not to hurt them and take him instead? How stupid. Stupid little insects. No, that was insulting insects, not that, but very stupid.

"Names don't matter to me, just pick which one dies."

Did he really not know who he was?

What he had done in the past when in situations like these, everything he had said and done that caused others to keep away from him because it was safer that way for them? Obviously, if he was doing this, he either did not know him and that was such a shame that Alastair sent him here to be the one to do this, he should have known better, he knew the lengths he would go to in order to protect those close to him, Alastair never seemed so incompetent before. Just like them, so stupidly careless, never seemed that way before, not until now.

"You'll call them by their names! They're _people!_ They _exist!_ You _don't!_ You'll _never_ fucking exist!"

Maybe it was age that did this, that made this seem like a good idea to him at the time, and that was such a silly, silly thing. He was better than this man; hell, he was better than Alastair himself, such a stain he was. Stains were temporary, washed out and away and poof, gone.

He was not a stain.

He was, in fact, about to get rid of this stain. If the man had said his goodbyes already, to his loved ones, that would be better for him, perhaps give him a sense of peace, if stains had that.

Dean licked his lips anxiously, gaze flicking from jackass, to Castiel, to Jimmy, who he had an arm held out to in case he tried to run. Poor guy never should have been dragged this far into all of this and the mechanic had been against this from the get go. The need to be with his brother was understood, but this was just too damn dangerous, look where they were. This had to be planned, why else would there not be another car in sight on what should be an at least scarcely used bridge, even this late at night?

Anyone else might be more worried about themselves, probably. However, his concerns were on Jimmy and Castiel. More the latter than the former and he felt kind of bad that he was sort of bending a little on the promise he made already. However, he was doing what he could for him, so not really breaking it. Besides, try as he may to make him think otherwise in his less, well, this kind of state, he knew Castiel was not in a good place. Before getting into the car, Jimmy mentioned how Castiel had decided not to take anymore, in part because of his presence there, and that the steps to detoxifying, considering he had practically been on a binge this entire time was not going to be pretty. He also told him that he knew what he was really taking and used Charlie's iPhone to get more of an idea on it, in case it was different than amphetamines.

In any case, that made him unpredictable and the fact that he was standing in front of them, like he had somehow been hoping to shield them, made it impossible to read his expression, to know what he was planning. His voice was tinged with a sort of hysterical type of mania and this disturbed him as much as it did jackass over there, though jackass also looked disgusted by Castiel's behaviour.

"Fucking meth heads, all the same."

Thinking on it, and he was sure he would have a lot more time to think about it, he realised he should have told Castiel that he was really using meth this whole time. Hell, Jimmy should have, if he did not. Yet, they had kept quiet and now it was out in the open, Castiel cocking his head again and fingers twitching.

Meth.

Meth, meth, meth heads did meth, called him meth head, the noise, static, was too fucking _loud,_ they had to shut the hell up, stop _crawling_ on his skin.

"I'll make it easy for you, just say one or two, I'll do the rest."

_Static, static, static, static, static–_

Fucking shut the fuck up!

_"They have fucking names!"_

Castiel gave no chance for jackass to respond, charging right at him with a growl.

Fucking stain was so goddamn stupid!

It felt like the whole thing was in slow motion, to be honest, and Dean always thought it was an exaggeration people used to further drive their point home and he was so, so wrong. Every detail was caught in this whole disastrous scene. He saw the flicker of fear pass through his eyes before he ascertained his target hastily, he heard the two shout and he definitely, no doubt about it, heard the gunshot bang out and Jimmy grunting in pain as he recoiled from the hit, that was unmistakable. Most assuredly, he would never be able to forget the sight of this attacker going right over the side of the bridge, the force of the tackle and struggle sending him right over in a mess of limbs, into the dark waters below, the splash the only thing letting him know there actually was water rather than an endless abyss.

_**"Cas!"** _

And Castiel went right down with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a place to leave you all at, how could I do such a thing? 
> 
> I looked up the bridges around the Missouri River to get an idea of how they were and so I wouldn't make it so that they fell over but in actuality, there are huge railings to prevent that. 
> 
> Castiel's responses to stuff are tailored to the best of my ability to him as an individual, information read, and dealing with addicts personally. Not that I exactly agree with the methods I've seen in the past, but Jimmy tries his best and uses more thoughtful methods, I suppose it can be said, rather than some impersonal ones I've been told of.
> 
> And I like Inias. I just do. He should have been in more episodes, such a cutie pie. I use him often in roleplays in one way or another, so why not this story, too. The reason I pair him with Anna has to do with the first Supernatural roleplays I ever did. Anna was Castiel's sister and she married Inias and it just sort of stuck. 
> 
> Also, yay for Balthazar and Queen popping up, no matter if only on phone. I like Balthazar, too, very much so. And cats. Just as a random note, it's strange to me that the name of that dildo is actually a very real product. I knew I wanted Balthazar to say something like that because he didn't know the number so why not, but I realised I have I no knowledge whatsoever on sex toys. I know they exist and what dildos are and a few others because people at school talk. A lot. So, I actually had to look it up and I chose the first one I found that sounded funny. Coincidentally, my brother chose this day after we both got back from work to show me this show called Bullshit and sex toys were shown and I never knew they could spin like that, seems painful more than pleasure inducing.
> 
> Anyway, I'll try and update as soon as I can!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When realising he was framed for Ruby's murder, Dean knew it was not going to be a pleasant experience trying to prove himself innocent and factored in a lot of complications. A set of twins, one falling over a bridge and the other shot, was never quite in the realm of possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, finally up. 
> 
> I'm sorry for taking so long, I was really sick and I'll spare you all the gross details, but I tried to write in that time and I think it's all bleh as a result. Everything was jumbled up, though I really wanted to get this out because it's one step closer to the end and I actually do have some of that written out already, which is exciting. I think it's exciting, at least, it's been nagging at me for awhile that it'd be neat. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :D

"Cas!"

Very little was keeping Dean from running and hurtling himself off the side of the bridge. The main thing keeping him was Jimmy, who had stumbled back against the trunk of the car with his left hand slapped over his shoulder, breathing in sharply through his nose and had his head tilted back like he was doing all he could to not look at the blood or something. For being shot for the first time, he was dealing with it, as of now, remarkably well.

"Fuck. Jimmy. We need to get you to a doctor."

_I'm saying that he's always first._

"I'm f-fine. You have to… Cas, help him."

_Doesn't matter what trouble I'm in._

"I…" He wanted to, he really did, and every part of him was screaming to do it, Jimmy was a big boy, he could manage by himself, he had not dropped from the hit and was not in any state of shock or severe blood loss. And yet, "I promised. I have to deal with this first. I'll call Inias, tell him to come."

_**Please.** _

The water, he could still hear some movement in it or maybe that was just in his imagination, wanting to believe Castiel in how he said he could take care of himself, that he was swimming out of there. If he patched Jimmy up quick enough, he could get down there. The ATC told him to take care of his brother and if he called the paramedics, that counted, right? He was in a slightly bordering on psychotic state and did just learn that was the effects of meth, which may have made his response worse, but he was Castiel, he was a fighter, he could do it.

Right?

"You idiot! He's down there! You have to help him!"

Jimmy kept trying to make his way around him and he was a really horrible person for denying him that, firmly placing his hand on his good shoulder and keeping him in place.

"You're not in any damn shape to do shit! So sit your ass down and let me do what I can!"

Definitely a horrible person and a betrayal he was not expecting from Jimmy–he did say he did not like or respect him yet, after all–was present in his eyes, hand losing some of the pressure over the wound and it was the most heartbreaking look he ever saw, the words whispered out in the top five of the most painful he ever heard.

_"How can you do this?"_

Truthfully, Dean had no good answer and opted to press his hand over his to keep the pressure and searched for his phone. No dice and he was beginning to lose his cool a little, the noises from below, were they gone altogether, was he just too far away, he must have already made it to land, that was it, of course that was it.

Let that be it.

"My jacket. In my jacket, phone's in there."

"Keep pressure on it."

The carelessness on his part, he could say it was the panic setting in. He could also say that it was perhaps a subconscious move, that he used the very real panic as an excuse to be careless. Such a dilemma would never quite be solved because his thought at the moment was getting the phone, getting Jimmy help, that was his task. The text to Inias was probably riddled with mistakes and conveyed the message in spite of that.

When he got to making the call, however, he heard movement and jerking his head up, he saw Jimmy run across the lanes, jump onto the parapet and dive right in like it was an everyday thing, injured shoulder be damned.

"Fucking sh-! Jimmy!"

Leaning over to look into the water, he could not see much of anything, though he could hear the splashes of water and Jimmy's voice.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck his life, fuck everything and plenty more raced through his mind as he got on the parapet as well and jumped off. Dean was not particularly advanced in diving and swimming, with enough known, regardless of how graceless he was, to keep him from killing himself upon impact and what to do when in the water. It was fucking freezing, it felt like everything dropped about twenty goddamn degrees the moment he hit the water, surfacing made it inexplicably colder and fuck, they needed to get out of here before they froze to death.

"Over here! Dean! De–!"

Turning, he heard the splutters of attempting to expel water and frantic efforts to stay above some distance away and how the hell did he get so far, he really missed the mark, making his way over and pushing on despite the chill settling already.

Jimmy was obviously fighting a losing battle, arm wrapped around the unconscious form of his brother from behind and kicking with all he had to keep them afloat. His right arm was as good as useless now, unable to move very much and damn it, he knew adrenaline could only do so much. He had hoped it would have lasted long enough to take them out, the cold promptly chucking that possibility out the proverbial window and was it not funny? Here he was, a man thirty years of age, who once had an irrational fear of drowning and plenty of nightmares about it and this was just like one of them.

He heard Dean jump in and had called out to him, cutting off when he accidentally ingested water and it only went down from there. Or, he went down, quite literally, barely able to gasp in a breath before going under. The weight of his brother was proving to be too much for his limited strength, his shoulder felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly and torn into, and fear was latching on tightly, all the nightmares too vivid.

And he refused to let go.

Jimmy refused, legs moving and good arm keeping Castiel up because he was not going to lose him, not like this, not ever unless it was simply natural causes years and years from now. All his fears could go suck a lemon, Dean was going to get him–hopefully–before he drowned or the pain got to him, he was able to hold his breath, he was still awake, Castiel was not, he needed help, not him.

It felt much too long until his brother was finally grabbed and a hand gripped the front of his shirt and hauled him back up, breath taken in greedily.

"Can you swim?"

"Y-yeah."

He was freezing, he could not feel his fingers and every movement of his legs barely registered, his shoulder was killing him and he was pretty sure he saw his life flash before his eyes down there, but he could swim. Nonetheless, Dean ordered him to stay close, keep as strong a hold on his jacket with his right hand and tug if he was going too fast for him or he needed help, holding Castiel much the same way Jimmy was as they made their way to land. The man noted the strain in was causing him doing this strange, modified backstroke to remain at a pace he could match and essentially keep all three of them up, he was beginning to sink a little every other kick of his legs which made him all the more determined to get there, if anything.

So close, they were close, Jimmy was not going to let it slip away and he tightened his hold on the other's jacket, offering whatever he had and it paid off, Dean was able to finally touch the ground and scoot his way entirely out of the water, dragging Castiel with him and also helping Jimmy stagger on out. They both laid there for a moment, chests heaving as they caught their breath, Dean with Castiel sprawled on him–who he did, in fact, feel breathing, his hands had immediately moved to his mouth and over his heart–and Jimmy sort of near face first in the grass and clutching his shoulder, cold as all hell and not wanting to move a muscle when Dean gasped out what was probably meant to be a scolding.

"Y-you fucking… _i-idiot,_ j-j-jumping off with a-a goddamn bullet l-lodged in you."

Might have been more effective if his teeth were not chattering and he could manage to sound more angry.

"G-go to h-hell, y-you ass."

His retort would have more behind it as well.

Neither of them wanted to move, not really, it was easier to lay there and wait for it to pass. Of course, they were sopping wet and one of them was out cold, another with a shoulder injury and the other, well, he was bad off in a different way, so staying there was not recommended. When Jimmy groaned upon trying to move, smacking his head into the moist ground in an attempt to distract from the pain and probably the only spot that felt relatively warm at the moment, Dean got a move on and sat up, bringing Castiel along with him so he was doing something like straddling his lap, being chest to chest.

"C-come on. We have t-to get back up there. O-or to a hospital and I can't carry you both."

"I'm not-not moving… u-until you s-swear you'll take care of m-my brother."

Dean could laugh at how fucking pigheaded these brothers were.

"Jesus f-fucking Christ, you two. Fine. Never said I wasn't."

Convinced enough, Jimmy counted to three and rolled onto his back before sitting up, taking deep breaths to try and keep himself from falling into a state of panic or shock and it was really something how all those classes with Amelia and learning breathing techniques to have her follow when giving birth helped out right now. It did not take away the pain, it did very little for the pain itself, though he was not as disoriented as could be and managed to stand up. Wobbling a little, but hey, this was his first and hopefully last gunshot wound he received, he had to be cut a little slack.

Dean did not have as much trouble standing, only taking some extra time as he removed Castiel's–Jimmy's, whoever it belonged to-trench coat and button up, leaving him bare chested and then removing his own, shucking them to the side. The only thing he kept was the trench coat, feeling like he was in elementary school again with how he tied it around his waist then got up with Castiel in his arms.

It was important to them, however, so he kept it, the rest could be replaced.

To prevent hypothermia and shit, wet clothes had to be gone and skin on skin contact was best. By far was he an expert and it sucked–at least right now, he did not actually _want_ to be in this situation a lot–that most of his knowledge on this came from movies, though it sounded reasonable. And it would be more helpful if they could get out of their clothes altogether, yet he doubt that would be looked upon positively if they did manage to find help.

"L-let's go."

This had better fucking work or else it was going to be a damn shame that he was freezing his goddamn nipples off.

Jimmy made it about as far as ten minutes down the trail, squinting at the area and trying to determine which way to go, when a faint light from behind had them turn around and sweet baby Jesus, it was a miracle. Really, it was the text he sent that had Inias driving slowly down the lane, head poking out of his open window and keeping a look out.

"Hey! Hey, over here!"

He would wave, if he was not carrying Castiel. Jimmy, on the other hand, let go of his shoulder momentarily, picked up a rock, and chucked it with all he had, the impact causing the other ATC to shift into park and come out to search for them.

"Dean? Jimmy?"

"Down here!"

Inias had to lean over the parapet to see them properly, breathing a sign of relief that they were, for the most part, alright. The mechanic had hurried over to the bridge, dismayed to see it was too big a difference to hand Castiel over and help Jimmy up to go receive care. He could deal with the cold, survive the night, he was not sure about them. Emeralds followed the length of the bridge, seeing where the bridge more or less met the path they were on, not too far, and Inias followed his gaze. No words had to be exchanged, just a nod, and he was heading back to his car, Dean checking Jimmy was good to go before they jogged over. Probably best to conserve their strength, any other time, if they were not so close to being rescued.

Seeing as he was freezing, running that relatively short distance should have merely warmed him up, gotten his heart pumping, not made him as tired as he was. Inias managed to get there earlier than they did, obviously, and Jimmy went first, then he followed with Castiel. The car was painfully hot, his fingers and cheeks burning, that was the first thing he noticed getting in the car and told the other just that. The second was that their bags were piled up in the front seat.

"Had time to get our bags?"

"I arrived and no one was there, but I thought you wouldn't want your stuff to remain, then I heard some noises and I followed."

"Good man."

In the backseat, he had Castiel on his lap, back against his chest after grabbing two jackets from his bag. One went to cover them up however much it could, the other was held out to Jimmy.

"Take your clothes off, use this for now."

The reluctancy to strip would have been present any other day, any other time. Between freezing and bleeding and only bleeding, Jimmy liked the latter. It hurt, hurt more than anything else he dealt with, he thought, slipping his arms out after the buttons were undone and he pointedly avoided looking at the dark stain against the grey and the hole. Right when he was about to slide on the jacket, Dean had stopped him, eyes trained on his side.

"You have one, too?"

Jimmy looked down, even if he already knew what he was talking about. Sure enough, he was looking at the feather on his side, highlighted in blue and pink. Below, where the colours dripped down, there was a set of coordinates and some strange symbols, all he was willing to let Dean see, pulling the jacket away from his hand and settling it over himself without jostling his shoulder, eyes averted and hand pressing down hard, maybe too hard, on his injury.

"What's it to you? Think the 'good twin' can't have something like this?"

The bitterness in his voice was heard by the mechanic, he did not mean to strike a nerve and unintentionally did so, the same one that caused a different reaction in Castiel, a far more dejected one.

"No, not that. Just, saw the same on Cas earlier and he said it was his favourite, didn't tell me what it stood for."

Dean never questioned why anything was someone's favourite and did not when Castiel told him that. That did not stop him from wondering what the coordinates were or the symbols stood for when he saw them, on his right side, the male having smiled and kissed him, telling him, "It's a secret. Maybe I'll tell you someday." So, he respected that, did not look them up and now he understood a little more why it was a secret, why he did not explain like all the others, because he did not view it as his alone to share. As opposed to Castiel, Jimmy had it on his left side, like looking into a mirror, and there was no trace of anything else on his skin that he could see. No piercings or marks to indicate he ever had any, no other ink on his skin, just that simple tattoo and that was it.

His answer pacified the male and they lapsed into silence, save the occasional shivering and shuffling when Dean leant over to check if Jimmy had not passed out. Cold, no doubt, a bit paler than was considered healthy and he could see his fingertips where they were not under his jacket stained red, but still awake.

"We're pulling up now."

Sure enough, it was a hospital. Dean could not care less the name, so long as the doctors inside did their job and patched him up.

"Jimmy, you got to go alone. If either of us go in–"

"You might be recognised. Yeah, I got it. Just, someone give me my wallet, it's in the side pocket. And my phone."

Crabby attitude and gunshot wound aside, he was good. Inias handed both over and offered to take him in, which he declined because no, he needed to take them somewhere they would not be risking another bullet in a far more fatal place and it would bring up too many questions anyway. Jimmy would rather not have any more people crowding him asking what happened than necessary. And, he could walk on his own just fine. A little woozy and on trembling legs, the lights were a bit bright and his ears felt like they were stuffed, his heart beating too hard in his chest, and he was just dandy, as seen by how he most certainly did not practically abuse the poor button by the emergency entrance, resting against the wall once that was done because wow, maybe he did have more adrenaline than he thought and now it was going away.

Dean stayed as long as it took for someone step out and see the male, calling out for some more help, and then Inias was heading off again.

"Uh, Inias, can you take us to a motel? I don't want you and Anna to be in any more danger or anything. And I don't know how long Cas will be…"

What was he supposed to say Castiel was? Sick, detoxing? He could say he was a lot of things, but that somehow did not fit, such wrong sounding words like sick.

"I understand. But, you must understand, this doesn't mean I won't check up or won't fly you to where you need to go."

"Don't think I'll be getting a better deal from you than that."

So, he eventually found himself in a decent motel–for once–courtesy of the ATC and did not blink at the one bed, simply set Castiel down on it and got to removing the remainder of the wet clothes to replace with dry ones. Inias had helped with the bags, made sure they were set, and took his leave, saying that he would bring Jimmy when he was released.

Somehow, Dean doubt that he would stay the recommended time more than get helped then leave and find them. Either way, that meant he was going to be left alone with Castiel for awhile. Normally, he would be happy to spend the time with him and he still was, he just wished it was not like this. This was better than out on the streets and they were warm now, Castiel was breathing well, everything was more or less okay.

Or, it started that way, when they arrived. Dean was fine to lay there with Castiel, wait until morning, except Castiel had different plans and about two or so hours in, he began to toss and turn, groaning and shouting out. The mechanic was unsure if he should hold him down, what that might do if it did anything, opting to try and keep him from hurting himself and waking him up.

When he did, Castiel had clocked him in the face as he tried to get up, gasping for air and eyes wild.

"Hey, hey, Cas! Cas, calm down!"

"–in me, they're _in me!_ Thousands, millions-I-they're, they're-"

"Nothing's in you, I promise. Just listen to me, Castiel."

Damn, he was really bad at comforting people when they had nightmares. Since Sam was just a baby when their mother passed, he never really had to deal with him having nightmares, their dad never said shit about him having any nightmares and when he had them, John basically told him to suck it up. Holding Castiel and rubbing his back was the best he could think of, repeating himself and it passed, the other conking out quickly enough.

At least he knew he would wake up?

And he continued to wake up every so often, always freaking out about one thing or another, with the special of the night being some things in him he was desperate to get out, to the point where he started crying and clawing at himself. That time, Dean did hold him down until he calmed and fell back asleep.

Needless to say, this was just another sleepless night and he was fucking exhausted.

The good thing had to be that Castiel was capable of waking up, yes? He could have just not woken up at all and then they would really be screwed. There was no doubt that Dean would take him to the hospital himself and stay there until he knew he was okay, but that would be dangerous in its own right. Whatever, that did not happen, he was tired, his eyes hurt, and all he really wanted that he could have was some food, which he texted Inias to pick up before coming by.

His response of being there in about an hour had him sigh and toss the phone onto the bedside table. That was one hour too long for his last meal having been the dinner yesterday and everything that had happened since then. Now that they were all relatively okay, he could also focus on how gross he felt, not having taken a shower after that dip in the river. Who the fuck knew what kind of filth was in there, be it produced naturally or dumped in by men. He once heard of these bugs that crawled into a person as they pissed and stuff, then swam their merry way into their brain and he was not risking that. Sure, it was only in still water and on a different continent that such happened, it was still a completely legitimate concern and he never went into water unless it had probably about a hundred chemicals or however many pools had since then.

How grand it would be to take a shower.

Alas, he could not yet and he was left in some torturous not really sleeping but kind of feeling like it state for the next hour and a half before jolting out of it when he heard the knocks. He slid out of the bed, cautious in his approach to the window to see who it was. Relieved that they had some kind of break and there was glorious, glorious food, he opened the door, Inias and Jimmy on the other side.

They entered and he shut the door, taking a look over the one who, as he predicted, did not look like he was meant to be out of the hospital just yet. He was wearing the same jeans as before, significantly dryer, and the jacket Dean had handed over to him which, judging by the amount of skin he saw from how he had not zipped it up all the way, was the only thing he was wearing. There was also the matter of the sling his right arm was in that he did not look happy about, hand clutching a white paper bag. No one would be happy, he supposed, getting shot and all. Unless they did it for kicks and Dean was not going to even attempt to get into that headspace.

"You look like shit."

Of course, he was going to be normal, inappropriate Dean as always.

Jimmy glared at him, dark circles under his eyes and all, "At least it's temporary for me."

Likely deserved that.

"Dean," Inias handed over the take out bag he brought along, nodding over to the twins, "I think you should all have some time to yourselves. I'll come back at noon."

"Thanks."

"Call if you need anything else."

The least Dean could do was see Inias off and now that Jimmy was there, he was comfortable enough to leave Castiel's side. When he got inside, Jimmy was in his space in no time at all, white paper bag he brought thrust at him.

"Here. You need to read all the warnings and effects."

"Whoa, alright. Any reason why I got to read your papers for you?"

Jimmy glared once more, scowling, "Not for me," and okay, he was moving to sit on the side of the bed he was at before, reaching in first to pull out the orange prescription bottle, circular little pills rattling around.

"What're these? Pain killers?"

Not like any he ever saw before, that was for sure, and he got a long look at various prescription ones years ago.

"Antidepressants."

Dean's brow furrowed as he looked at the bottle again, turning the label to face him and reading the blocky letters that spelt out the male's name, some numbers, and the name of the pills themselves.

"Mirtazapine… buddy, I appreciate the concern, but I'm not depressed." Granted, his life mainly sucked right now, there was very little good in it and one of the very little good things was currently out cold, though he doubted it was grounds for depression. He still ate, still slept, still had motivation and those were the main signs to look out for, right? A decrease in all of that?

"Not for you either, for Cas."

"I don't think he's depressed." The mechanic hoped not. A lack of meth was maybe going to screw him over other ways, if the last twenty four or so hours were any indication. How that might affect him so drastically that he would fit enough symptoms of depression, he had no clue. He was aggressive and a little paranoid, with a touch of psychotic, if anything.

"You didn't see him last time and I don't think he told you everything, if you don't think he might be." Jimmy personally wished he never saw him last time, that none of it ever happened to begin with. Bringing a chair over with him and settling down next to his brother, he took his hand, thumb sweeping over the inside of his wrist, where his tattoo started. And he knew it was deliberate, where it began, knew what was under the ink, he saw it himself, talked him off the ledge himself, so to speak. He was the one who knelt down beside his sobbing brother, told him that if he was truly set on doing it then he was not going about it alone and had bled that night as well, had the scar but did not cover it like his brother, not Dean. Memories shaken off, he continued, "I also did research. It's possible he will experience it, or symptoms similar to it as time goes by, something about binging on meth messing with dopamine production and some studies show those help. I figured he might need it. If not, then good."

His actions did not go unnoticed by Dean, although he tried to be respectful and not stare at what he was doing. Hell, he wanted to because of the implications of those words and actions were heavy, he wanted to know if he was just jumping to conclusions, he hoped he was. Instead, he adjusted himself so he leant against the small headboard, reaching out to grab a breakfast burrito and handing it over. The other eyed it for a moment, trying to determine whether or not the unhealthy food was worth it, deciding his hunger won out and opening it with some difficulty using only one of his hands. They ate in silence until about Dean's fourth bite when he really thought about the bottle he was handed. The name said James Novak and from the small glance he got of his medical card when he checked if it was there, it was his medical ID number. As far as the doctors and medical insurance knew, those pills were meant for Jimmy, he had gone and told his doctor enough to get these pills and manage to keep himself from being thrown in a psych ward.

"Dude, did you lie to a doctor? Isn't that like a mortal sin?" The male had paused mid bite, those big blue eyes staring at him like he was processing what he was saying and trying to find a way out of it at the same time before completing the bite, chewing and swallowing. His eyes wandered down to his brother and between his good shoulder giving a shrug and the way his lips moved, he really captured one of those "well, what can you do" type deals he thought only existed in sitcoms.

"I didn't lie, I just… _exacerbated_ a few things here and there. Besides, we shared a womb, I don't think it's a stretch to share other things."

"You work that system."

If Dean could have, he would have done it himself, spared him having to do it because even if he tried to appear fine with it and maybe he was, under the circumstances, it was evident as all else that this was not within his comfort zone. So, he dropped the subject, finished his burrito and got to reading every single word of this antidepressant, regardless if he got the point around the first page.

"It's a language we made up as kids."

"What?"

"The symbols. You were wondering, weren't you? When I got that call, I… I thought…" Trying to word it was hard, he avoided it because of that, "I prayed. A lot. And he made it through the worst of it, started getting better, decided to get that tattoo not long after. I thought since I started the journey with him, I should be there until the end, so I got a tattoo with him. Not as elaborate as his others, but it's something only he and I can understand."

More of an explanation he had before, Dean took it as it was and set down the papers as he stood up, making his way to pat his good shoulder, "It's a good look for both of you. Now, I'm going to hop in the shower." Because he really needed the damn thing or else he was pretty sure he was going to go insane with how dirty he felt.

As good as it was, Dean did not take too long, part of it being due to the shower not the best of showers he had been in. Once dressed and feeling his jaw, deciding it was not yet time to shave, he was greeted with Castiel sitting up in bed, a take out container on his lap and fork in hand, shovelling the eggs in his mouth.

"Christ, slow down before you choke, Cas."

Blue eyes flicked over to him, the ATC giving him a half-smile in between mouthfuls and having to take a moment to swallow before his customary, "Hello, Dean," came out and back to his food he went. It was a far more pleasant sight than one might think, seeing the male almost inhale his food, having been a few days too long since he saw him have a full meal in one go. His brother looked slightly more disturbed by the sight, possibly because it was his brother and he was not going to treat him any differently or maybe it was all good natured as he grabbed a napkin and forced him to take it.

"Ugh, Castiel, you're not in the wilderness, napkins exist. So do manners."

His sling was gone, Dean saw, tossed haphazardly under his chair and his arm was held close, unmoving. A glance at him and he knew he had done it to keep it from being known. Lying about things was bad, he knew how that turned out. Not mentioning things right away, perhaps he could let that slide.

For now.

"So, how're you feeling?"

"Hungry."

Obviously. Dean was thinking maybe he should have left him some of his burrito with how he was eating.

"And tired. Very tired. Not well, actually. I feel like shit."

Could have been put a little more elegantly, though none of them had time for that, it was easier simply said as it was.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

That did cause Castiel to stop as he stabbed into an apple piece, staring at Dean as he sat down on the bed.

"We were going to Inias and… we were hit by a man. And he said…" The realisation sparking in his eyes was a terrible thing and if there was any part he wished Castiel did not remember, it was this and the stuttering that followed, _"Meth head._ He called me a meth head. I don't-I… I didn't-didn't…"

"Brother, breathe. You didn't know."

How devastating that must be to have that thrown in his face, he could only imagine, and he let Jimmy take this, a more personal touch would help. The only thing was that, upon feeling his brother's touch, Castiel recoiled slightly, hand dropping the fork and his eyes widened a fraction, too much flashing in them and then it all went away, every single ounce of it and he closed the container to set aside.

"I… should go take a shower."

And that was it, that was the end of the conversation, those six, flat words were the only response he had before he got up slowly, sluggishly, grabbed some clothes and shut the bathroom door behind him. They both heard the shuffling around, the water turn on, and then looked at each other, Jimmy frowning and Dean wondering what the hell just happened. He knew it was not going to be sunshine and rainbows, his recovery from the drugs, he was still not expecting that. It seemed Jimmy was, as he sighed and picked up the sling he hid, fiddling with the adjustable strap and glancing at the pill bottle that left Dean with a sinking feeling.

"I think he might end up needing those pills after all."

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start this off with a very important note. If you or anyone close to you believe you can benefit from medication to treat depression or any other mental illness then please, please see a psychiatrist to discuss options, don't go to the doctor you go when you're sick with pneumonia or such. They can help out with plenty of things, they're good at what they do, but mental illness is not what they specialised in. I know it still happens sometimes and they mean well, most likely, it's just not the best option available for you. So please don't do what Jimmy did, you all deserve the best of care.
> 
> Oh, let me thank prairie_dust for the information given, I really appreciate it and you're a lovely, beautiful person! :D
> 
> Also, I don't know how cold it can get in the river, but I do know once, on my birthday about eight years ago, one of my friends jumped into my pool and she wasn't in there very long, but her lips were blue by the time she got out. I figured since that was in the middle of the day in November, it's probably considerably cold in a river in the middle of the night in the first few months of the year.
> 
> I looked up a bit on being shot in the shoulder, trying to figure out whether or not Jimmy would be able to jump and do what he did and not pass out from the blood loss. It was… interesting, to say the least, what I found. And very, very graphic. 
> 
> And Castiel, poor guy, he's not out of the woods yet. There's a few things that are going to happen before he balances out. Or at least before he's forced to be so if he wants to keep his promises. A bit of a hint of what's to come, vague as it is. 
> 
> The insight to Castiel's last recovery from drugs, I made it sad. Because, it is sad, it's a sad thing to go through, to witness, to know it exists beyond writing. However, like in this story, support is amazing in those times, loved ones can form such strong bonds as a result. It's heartwarming to me when I see this happen before my eyes at work, I really love it, and I wanted to show that between Jimmy and Castiel in a variety of ways. Thus, Jimmy's willingness to get a tattoo to share with him something that'll be as permanent as can be and that he'd never do on his own, the scar he took on to show his dedication to him, all of it. 
> 
> I'm so sentimental about this kind of stuff, my brother calls me a loser whenever I talk about things like this.
> 
> On a lighter note, when did people stop tying jackets around their waist? It just kind of stopped and became uncool, I didn't even notice, I thought everyone figured out it was easier to leave their jackets in class or something.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is not quite certain how everything is now, but he does know that he keeps his promises and that, above all, Jimmy and Dean are to be kept safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting close to the end now, how about that. There are a lot of skips and such, mainly because I don't think you all want to read two days of mood swings and sleeping and such. They're described in some detail, though that's about it. 
> 
> I posted this chapter awhile after posting the chapter to my new story, Silent Film Star. Give it a read if you have the time, it's more focused on Dean and sad stuff in his life, I can't seem to write purely happy things. It should be happy by the end, same as all I write, and they'll be a happy couple by the end.
> 
> As usual, typos will be eventually caught a fixed and feel free to comment, I always love reading what you all have to say. 
> 
> Enjoy! :D

One thing that Castiel Novak was not was a liar.

Well, maybe a little, but only when it was absolutely necessary in his eyes and it was in the past that such was true. Lying reminded him of times when he was too stupid on drugs to realise what he was really doing to himself, who he was hurting, so he avoided it like the plague and the fact that he had little to no filter helped out. And, he did not lie to his brother or to Dean, he was going to take a shower. At least, he was going to if he could get his fucking clothes off, his whole body hurt and every limb weighed a ton, removing his shirt already had his heart pounding and he stared despairingly at the sweats he had on, it being the biggest trial he faced to get them down far enough so he could shimmy out of them.

Fuck the boxers.

He was tired, he was so, so tired and the lingering thoughts on what was said to him were unrelenting, the male simply stepped into the shower, the material absorbing all the water and clinging to his skin and he did not care. It was surprising, but not, how little he actually cared about much of anything. He hated this, he knew what this was and he knew that he could make it go away, if only he had another hit. An endless fucking cycle, one he had to break, and how he wanted to believe that he could remain in it and be perfectly alright. Anything was better than this, it was only going to get worse, he did not want that, no one would want that.

He was really fucking tired.

Castiel thought he had washed his hair or maybe that was in his head. Who the fuck knew what was in his head and what was actually real, though he did see the shampoo bottle knocked over and top popped open, liquid oozing out, thinning out more and more with the water until it all went down the drain. There was another bottle, a washcloth and a razor, too. He stared for what seemed like forever and then thought he should probably stand it up, that was wasting shampoo. So he sat down in the shower, reached out for the bottle and it felt funny, the slippery remains of the liquid on the plastic, it smelt like… fresh, nice fresh, maybe something else he could not think of at the moment because he was really, just completely, entirely exhausted. His shampoo coated fingers stumbled on over to the razor, holding it up to eye level and counting one, two, three blades.

_Fucking meth heads, all the same._

Leave him alone, he was just trying to shower and these fucking boxers were not letting him. He should just… cut them off. Here was the razor, there were his boxers, perfectly sensible. His fingers ran down the blades, then up, then to the side and around the second movement, they bit into his flesh, staining them carmine and that was a nice colour, really nice, it went well with the warm water. He liked this warm water, it was better than the cold of his memories.

The cold, a struggle, a gunshot, drowning…

He was just tired.

That was all, simply tiredness, he should get to cutting these boxers and maybe he could finish his shower from down here, standing was too much effort. Or maybe he could get up, it might be easier to cut them standing rather than sitting and putting it to the material, only first he needed his strength.

Maybe if he closed his eyes for a second…

"… tiel! Castiel, wake up!"

Jerking awake, he saw Jimmy's face hovering over his, brows pinched together and eyes wide, and oh, he was on the bathroom floor now, head on his brother's lap and Dean was there too, turning off the water and grabbing some towels.

"What…?"

"It's been nearly an hour since you went in. We heard a noise and when we got in, you were on the shower floor."

Really?

He thought he was sitting, he was trying to rest his eyes, how did that end up being an hour?

Just tired, he told himself.

"It's-I'm…"

What was he even trying to say?

"Towel. I need a towel."

He needed a fucking hit is what he needed, a thing he kept mum on. They would not give it to him, no chance in hell, they never would even if he was having trouble sitting up himself. Because they thought it was enough to get the towel draped over him and belatedly, he saw one of the smaller towels wrapped around his thigh, reaching out to remove it when Jimmy slapped his hand.

"Don't. Not yet. You were bleeding pretty bad. What were you doing?"

What was he doing?

He was… trying to get rid of something. What was it? It could have been himself, that was not too far a stretch, he supposed. That was not his initial thought, though, when grabbing the razor.

"Boxers. I was… trying to cut through them."

That sounded right. Jimmy and Dean exchanged a look before the latter sighed.

"If you needed help, you could've just asked, not nearly slice through an artery."

"I thought I could do it."

Castiel never elaborated whether he was talking about his boxers or artery and that unsettled them. He was unsettled sitting there and tried to get up, whatever it was under the towel stinging and they both helped him up.

"I'm going to sleep."

"You just woke up."

"I'm tired."

Seeing as his jeans were already wet from his brother's hair, Jimmy took him over with his arm slung over his shoulders, biting his lip when his hand would nearly brush by, offering a small smile when he was changed and in bed and kissing his forehead.

"I'll clean up in there. Just sleep."

Castiel thought he should have said something, anything, but he could only think about where were his other jeans, the ones he was wearing when he tackled that man, his drugs were in there, they might still be good. And it was disgusting, he knew what they were, he fucking knew it, he knew what he promised and how those broke it over and over again and he still wanted the damn thing because he wanted this to just go away, leave him alone, he should have been fucking killed like he thought he would be if he ever did meth again.

He was a fucking disgusting human being and no amount of time would change that, no amount of pressure the heel of his hands in his eyes would change that, not even the tears would change that, fucking useless, good for nothing but reprimand and harsh words.

_Don't cry, Castiel. Boys don't cry._

Fuck him. Fuck him to hell, that excuse of a human being deserved to burn for causing what he did and he could cry all the pointless tears he wanted.

Jimmy kept his eyes on patting down the floor and dutifully ignoring the noises on the bed, jaw clenched in an effort to not do or say anything. His brother never liked it when he saw him like that, for whatever reason, and often times stayed distant when he did try and do something. Not that he really understood why, crying was a very natural thing, nothing to be ashamed of. Castiel never said he felt ashamed of crying, he actually never gave his reason, when he managed to get some type of answer from him, always gave a bitter smile and shook his head with a, "It's not important now." He thought it was.

Dean had only stayed in the bathroom because if Jimmy was not moving, then maybe it was best he not go either. Those sounds were no less heart wrenching from where he was, completely unabashed when the soft noises did make their way out. They did eventually stop as he fell asleep and Dean felt it okay to talk now.

"Dude, you didn't tell me he'd try and off himself like that."

"I don't think he meant to. There are much easier places than his leg."

"Then why the hell does it look like he really dug deep in there?"

"I don't know! Okay? Just… it's-I don't… I'm not in his head, Dean. Regardless of what people joke around with, twins can't read each other's minds or anything."

That actually seemed like a point of frustration to him right now, that he could not, in fact, tell what his brother was thinking and how much easier would that make this all. He had to remember not to be so harsh or sound accusatory, Jimmy was in the same boat as he was. So, he took the wet towels from him and helped clean up before they moved their way out of the bathroom and to the table to sit down.

"What's the game plan, then? If we try to go through with Cas' plan, there's no telling if he'll freak out in the plane."

Which would make being in a plane about a thousand times worse for him, not something he was looking forward to.

"Why don't you go alone? I can stay here with him, until he's well enough to travel."

"Yeah, that's not going to work. Alastair may or may not send someone else after you and if he does, I don't think you'll manage with one good arm and an unconscious brother." They could go by car, it was only a few hours to LA, though their last car was practically almost shoved off the bridge. This was a little bit harder than it was in the first place, "How long will it take to get Cas back on his feet?"

"I… don't know. I mean, I know how long he took last time, no way I could forget, but he had been doing drugs for almost six years back then, amphetamines for about four of those years."

When it was actually said aloud, how long it had been, rather than simply seeing them as dates on his skin, Dean felt sick. Castiel was such a good guy, from the moment he met him, no matter the circumstances of how they met, why were drugs turned to at such a young age? Fuck, he was only fourteen when he started, practically all of his teenage years were filled with drugs, he never had a chance to live the normal teenage life, just thrust into adulthood clean and without much to go on with how he was supposed to live without drugs. That sounded scary, to have a constant in life, in those important years that one developed who they were, suddenly ripped away, regardless of how bad that constant was.

"That's fine." Because it had to be, he would not make the other think of it anymore, he was sickened imagining it, surely living it was immeasurably worse, "We'll just… give it a few days. He was only using for what, four, five days? He didn't start using a lot until maybe the third day. That means it'll pass quick, won't it?" Probably nothing more than wishful thinking, meth could fuck with a lot of things quick, from the bit he knew and Jimmy still nodded.

"Yeah… quick."

He wanted to believe that, more than anything in the world.

And maybe it was quick, who knew, and maybe the fact that it was quick made him that much worse, screaming at the top of his lungs when he woke up about something he did not quite pick up because Dean had gone over to calm him down, arms wrapped around him and hands held to prevent him from scratching himself or anything.

That was a bit terrifying.

Of course, he knew it happened, he dealt with it before, but after ten years of that not happening, it was a bit of a shock to him. Castiel was limp in Dean's arms, head resting on his shoulder and breath shaky as the mechanic spoke.

"It doesn't happen every time he goes to sleep, but he has these pretty vivid nightmares, about things in him."

Things in him?

"Things like… what?"

He knew the types of nightmares his brother would have last time, he knew every single one of them, he asked him every time and he was told every time, but he never mentioned something like that.

"Don't know. Just that there's a lot of them, like millions of them."

"When… when are we going…?"

It sounded a little slurred, when Castiel talked, still preferred than those terrible screams.

"Buddy, I don't think it's wise for you to go anywhere right now."

"We have to… I promised… a-and it's supposed to be now."

"I know. But, see, you promised me something else before that. Do you remember? You left me a note when you left to Pontiac. You promised me you'd be safe. And I'd rather have you keep that promise because that'll help me out, too. Lilith and Azazel can wait, those dicks will still be there once you're better."

Jimmy felt as if he was intruding on an extremely personal moment, watching Castiel move so he could look at Dean, half open eyes searching before he attempted to smile and leaning over to kiss him.

"Promise. Just… two days. Then I can… can go."

He had looked away already, occupying himself with grabbing some clean clothes and only heard the mechanic's answer, "Alright, Cas. Two days," and the light sound of a peck. Slipping into the bathroom, he figured he should give them time alone. As much as he tried to hate Dean and he had a lot of reasons stacking up to hate him, he really could not. He made Castiel happy, he could see it because he saw it in himself a lot whenever it came to Amelia. And Castiel always said he was happy with his life, always looked like he was, but extra happiness never hurt anyone, right?

His brother had always been the kind of person to have strings of one night stands and nothing more in the past and even when he was clean, his only relatively long relationships lasted a few months. And who the hell knew, maybe this was just a spur of the moment kind of thing, something brought on by circumstance and would die off once everything was said and done. Jimmy honestly doubted it was, not that he would ever really say it out loud, because to say that would be like saying Amelia was the same to him and that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Well, he had about two days to really get to see it up close and personal.

All he had to do was not gag, how hard could it be?

\---

Thankfully, it was not very hard at all. That may have been in part due to his recovering from the meth binge, so not as great a reason as there could have been. Castiel ate, he slept. He slept the same alarming rate as last time and same as last time, he kicked him out of bed and forced him to get moving, get his blood pumping, sleeping all the time was only going to make it last longer. He bitched and moaned about being too tired, that everything was too hard, and Jimmy did not budge in his stance, Dean did not either and helped him get around when he stubbornly sat down.

Castiel also still had nightmares, which worried him, though they progressively lessened and it got to the point where he merely startled awake a few times here and there, had to look around to remember where he was and managed to calm himself down.

As for his mood, Jimmy could not quite place where that was. It fluctuated, to say the least. He was kind of happy at some points, willing to talk and sit there and watch television, mentioning how he still did not trust some doctor on the most ridiculous looking show he ever saw. Other times, he swore he could see a freaking cloud over his head with how down he was, not wanting to move an inch and he ate, he actually overate if neither of them were watching, though he never appeared satisfied with the food or even recognised he was eating, simply shoving in the food with robotic movements.

Then there were the times when he was excessively aggressive and would take everything up the butt, like every single word directed at him was out to get him and he would snap at everything, shouting at them to leave him alone and go away or sometimes even try and leave himself, with Dean being the one to stop him from heading out the door. Jimmy would do it himself, except he kind of, maybe, sort of was still keeping it a secret that he had been shot.

It was not that he liked keeping it a secret, he rather hated it.

But, when they asked what Castiel remembered about that night, every possible detail, he did recall a gunshot, though that was something he caused himself, once in the water and before he lost consciousness. So, letting him know, "Hey, another bullet hit me in the shoulder, sorry," was not in the cards. He had enough to deal with as it was. Besides, the bullet did not do any major damage, he was told at the hospital. No nerve damage or anything permanent, he had to let it heal was all and not move it around so much.

Dean had called him on that, about how he was essentially lying to his brother, and he had no good reason beyond the fact that he could not do it, not yet.

That had been two days ago.

On the second day, Castiel had insisted they leave, he was well enough to go and if they really were concerned, he would take the antidepressants, to ensure that he would stay asleep without having any fits.

Except, it turned out that night that it was mainly Castiel staying awake and trying to keep Dean calm and that was about the funniest thing he saw in the past couple days. He tried to not look, give him some room, and not make any remarks when he was clearly and legitimately scared about being in the plane and kept asking what was that noise, what was going on, was something wrong and repeated how unnatural this all was. Being the brother of an air traffic controller, who had a license to fly, he was used to being in a plane, he even knew a bit of the lingo himself and what the instruments were. It did not meant he could fly a plane himself or he actually knew what the numbers and all meant, though he supposed his limited knowledge would have helped Dean out then.

He could not have gotten out any faster once they touched land and Castiel had remained at his side, rubbing his back, bent over along with him to check on him and make sure he was not going to throw up. Seeing as Castiel was most familiar with this area, he was the one who led them around, even snatched the car they used because he knew where it was less likely to be reported or anyone would care.

Inias had left some time ago, after checking them in, and Castiel had come in with a water bottle to give to Dean, siting down next to him and conversing quietly. For a moment, Jimmy watched as the mechanic took the water with a soft smile, shoulder checking his brother to which he responded to with a short laugh. They both appeared well off and he took his leave, using the excuse of wanting a soda, feeling his jean's pocket for his phone.

Once at the soda machine, he phoned Balthazar, listening to the rings until a drowsy voice answered.

"What, Jimmy? I swear to your God, it's too fucking late for this."

"I just arrived."

There was some shuffling around and a curse before Balthazar sounded clearer and much more awake.

"Do you need me to pick you up? Or get you anything?"

"Not yet, no. Just, tell me, did you find out where Sam is?"

"I did. Not too hard a boy to find and he's not far from my place."

Good. That was good, he could get to Balthazar if he really needed a ride and then get to Sam, explain their situation and he had to help before this all went sideways, more than it already was.

"I'll be there in the morning, I can find my way there."

"Alright. Be safe then."

Call ended, he tucked the phone away and turned to head back, only to come face to face with his brother and stepping back.

"Jesus! Make some noise, Cas."

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one."

"Then why mention Sam Winchester?"

Damn.

Peeking behind him just in case Dean was around, he licked his lips and there was no reason to keep it from him. If he did and left, Castiel might end up freaking out and trying to search for him, effectively ruining any success in this plan.

"I asked Balthazar to find him and I'm going to talk to him in the morning, so we can end this."

The ATC frowned at that, shaking his head because that was wrong, Dean did not want that, he told him that when he first mentioned his brother.

"No. No, we can't. Dean said no, Sam isn't meant to be involved, can't be back in."

"Neither were you! And here you are, risking your life for him!"

"I am. But, I am not letting Sam be dragged into this, I won't disrespect Dean's wish."

"You're not. You can keep to your promise, you don't have to do anything but give me a reason to leave. Help me leave, that's all I'm asking, what I do after is my choice, you have nothing to do with it. Please."

Castiel stood there, thinking about it. His brother was not meant for this life, none of it, he was only here because of him, because he thought he was going to be so fucked up after the drugs–the meth–that he would not be able to handle it.

And, it was true, he was not handling it well at all. More than once in the bathroom did he find himself rubbing at his right wrist, wondering why he did not do it that night all those years ago. Surely, Jimmy would not have done it either. Now he had another chance to do it, do it proper this time around, and he had a few scabbed over areas on his left wrist to show for it. And he still smiled for them, when they looked at him, acted like he was fine and dandy, like his world as he knew it was not completely and utterly fucked up or he felt like he was falling, falling, always falling and there was no end in sight. He never said a word about it, but what good would pretending do if he did not let Jimmy go?

What if he had enough some day soon? The least he could do was have his brother as far away as possible, to keep him safe, to not have to see that. Sighing, he found himself resigning to this all because, in the end, his brother's life was so different from his own and he was free to do what he wanted. If he wanted this, if this helped him be safe, then Castiel would submit to it.

Sam was a lawyer, he knew laws, he followed them, he was a better option than a druggie like him.

"What do you have in mind?"

\---

When Dean went to sleep that night, everything had been as good as can be for the three of them. He had calmed down from the flight, Castiel was not in one of his more negative moods and Jimmy was adapting as much as he could.

Of course, that was not how it was this morning.

"… goddamn, inconsiderate bastard!"

"Oh, _shut up!_ You're the one who just had to tag along, little brother!"

"Screw you, Castiel! You're only a few minutes older, don't try and lord that over me, you _condescending ass!"_

That nice little picture he had of the brothers always being on the best of terms shattered when he was rudely woken up by their argument, immediately standing and seeing the two in each other's space, both glaring and fuck him, they were both pissed beyond words, Castiel hissing his words out.

"And don't you try and make me fit your precious little mould of what a brother should be, _James."_

Jimmy angrily shoved Castiel back, only getting him to go back two steps and throwing the bottle at him.

"I'm trying to save your damn life! If you don't want my help, fine, I've had it up to here with you and your attitude! All this time and you haven't changed, Castiel. I've tried to help you, Amelia tried, mother tried, God knows _everyone_ who cares about you has tried and you're still the same self-destructive bastard you were back then and I'm _not_ going to watch you fall anymore!"

Azures glanced at the bottle that had bounced off his chest then at the one standing in front of him, jaw clenched and hands balling into tight fists as he sneered.

"… _Fuck off_. Go on, fuck off and _leave!_ Leave like father did, you were always his favourite, always the _good twin_ _,_ and you're just like him, so fuck the hell off! I didn't need him and I _don't_ need you!"

Holy fucking Christ on a cracker.

Dean watched Jimmy's expression go from being slapped in the face, to pained then to plain outrage and that was giving it as little detail as possible, it was one of the most agonising things he had to see and so clear he could almost feel it himself.

_"Fuck you."_

That was it, Jimmy stormed right out, door slamming and he was gone. And he stood there, dumbfound, Castiel turning on his heel and catching his eye briefly. He looked angry, he looked very angry, actually, to a scary level. Yet, he also looked like he was in a tremendous amount of pain and was suffering so, so much. All he managed to get out was, "Cas…" before the male was in the bathroom, door locked and with no intention of coming out anytime soon to talk.

Fucking hell.

\---

As soon as he was out of the motel and around the corner, Jimmy had to stop and lean against the wall, taking a few breaths and letting his hand cover his eyes. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly let out his breath, composing himself before feeling a vibration in his pocket. His phone came out, new text lighting up the screen.

_Castiel Now  
I love you, brother. Be safe._

And Jimmy smiled at that, feeling the corner of his eyes begin to burn again and he blinked it away, responding to the text.

_I love you, too, brother. Be safe._

It was just a performance, he knew, and he hated it no less, it shook him up no less. They rarely argued at such intense levels, there was nothing really to argue with such fervour between them. And they had agreed this bought them the most amount of time, Dean would not question Castiel much on it, not wanting to hit a nerve so soon. What possible thing that could be so touchy, Jimmy did not know, drugs could be and Castiel had suggested their father.

Personally, he knew little of what that might do. He hardly remembered their father, never really bothered trying. Their father taught him how to tie his shoes and removed them for him when he was tuckered out at night, Castiel learnt how to do it on his own and would be in bed by the time father said goodnight to him, he remembered that. Then father grew more distant and Castiel started teaching him things, spending even more time with him than he already did, and eventually, when father left, he really did not miss him as much as he thought he might have.

So, their relationship was never quite as close, but he never considered as a child that it might have been bad that it was like that. And he knew it was a performance, he did his best to make it realistic, Castiel did, too. Why, then, did he feel so horrible, like that last bit of frustration was not all a performance? It could have been a lot of things that caused that and none of them made it any better to know.

Not now, he could not think of that now. First, it was getting to Balthazar's, which took some time on public transportation and had him looking over his shoulder a lot of them time. Little over an hour and a half later, he was making his way up the stairs and to apartment number ten, knocking on the door. Then he was in the man's arms, having the life squeezed out of him.

"Balthazar, damn it, my shoulder."

The Brit let him go, brow furrowed in confusion until he tugged his shirt down a little to show the gauze taped on, "I got shot, guy fell over the bridge, it's a long story. I'll tell you after. Can we go now?" His answer was in the form of a meow and a bell tinkering, a look down and there was Queen, rubbing up against his legs and meowing her little heart out, urging him to pick her up. With little difficulty, he did, scratching her head, "Hey there, girl. Has the unpleasant man been feeding you well?"

"I'll have you know I've been nothing but the best of hosts."

"Cas will be happy to hear that."

At the mention of his brother, Balthazar had to ask, "Is he here? At least tell me he's well."

"He's… Cas, you know him, he's not a quitter."

Queen grew weary of being in his arms and he had to let her go, her heading back in and Balthazar heading out with his keys in hand.

"Let's go then. She has her food and we have a lawyer to talk to. I had to make a few different calls, but I found out where he works and managed to snag us an appointment."

"And you're certain it's him?"

"You wanted the brother, didn't you? Of the guy Castiel was seen with?"

Yeah, seen with and done plenty of other things with he would rather not know. That was not mentioned because no doubt Balthazar would try and pry information out of him, whether it be for his own amusement or to lessen the tension, he wanted neither. Well, less tension would be good that was not due to talking about his brother's sexual activity.

For the time being, the radio would have to do and no, he was not going to shake it off like Taylor Swift was singing, even if the Brit was trying to get him to sing along and take her advice. Nothing against her, Claire actually liked her songs and they were not bad, there were simply other things on his mind.

He was also a little paranoid being here, this was where it all started for Castiel. Piercings aside, they looked the same at that time, what if someone stopped them because they thought he was his brother, that would ruin everything. It was a relief when the got to the firm, he did not even bother to check the name, he got right out of the car and practically dragged Balthazar along with him, restless as the secretary was told they arrived.

"Balthazar, maybe I should go. What if he takes one look at me and calls the police?"

"That's basically like him calling them on his brother, he'd never do that."

"But-"

"Mr. Winchester will see you now."

Shit. Damn. Nervous did not begin to describe what he felt now that he was here and the blonde had to place a hand on his back to get him to start moving and oh no, there was the door.

What if he messed up?

What if Dean and Sam never talked to each other?

No. No, he had to do this, he had to try. This was a way he knew, he was familiar and comfortable with this type of thing. He conducted business all the time, this was no different. He could do this.

Take a deep breath and get in there and make his pitch, that was all there was to it.

The man seated at the desk had floppy brown hair and a friendly demeanour from what he could see. Then his eyes moved from the papers in front of him, took one look at him, and they widened as he jerked up to stand and okay, Dean was a bit taller than him, but Sam was even more so, he was not expecting that.

_"Castiel?"_

"Jimmy, actually. Jimmy Novak, Castiel's brother."

His hand was held out because it was proper to shake hands, Sam did so after a pause.

"Wow, uh, sorry. I thought-I didn't know he had a twin. Uhm, please, sit, both of you." When they did, the lawyer cleared his throat, unsure of what he might be able to do for them. He had no contact with Dean in what felt like forever, ever since the murder, and could offer them nothing about Castiel. Admittedly, he did try and poke around about who the guy was, see if he was a bad guy and all, nothing stood out to him, he had a clean record and that was all he did.

"I know this is sudden, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't urgent. My brother, he didn't want me to come, says your brother has kept you out of it so far."

"That sounds like Dean."

Of course when it concerned him, Dean said no dice and attempted to cut him off in every way known to man. It was annoying, really, he was being blamed for Ruby's murder, something he knew he did not do, and it had everything to do with him.

Information was just so damn hard to get.

"And, they mean well, they do. But, they're not going about it by legal means, they can't with all these charges against them. So, I'm here instead and I'm asking you for your help. I don't know much, but I think I know where Lilith and Azazel might be and their next move, I overheard some of Alastair's goons talking when they were watching my family and I."

Information was just so damn hard to get until Jimmy, who possessed more than anyone else they had.

"Tell me everything you know."

Dean could suck it.

This was his call and he said it was his problem, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more is given away about Castiel's possible reasons for using drugs, his attitude, and overall personality when it comes to those he loves and such. There are a lot of things that influenced him, he just decided to be a closed book. And, sad times for him now, he's really not doing well and that fake argument probably hit him harder than he'll admit. 
> 
> On a happier note, Balthazar is back and so is Queen. Sam's coming in, too, finally drawing the line and saying enough is enough and he's there to help.
> 
> I'll add more notes if I can think of any.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about, well, things is they do not always go according to plan. Which sucks, for everyone involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than usual, but it wasn't long enough to break up into two separate chapters. And, it's fast paced, I think, with a fairly good reason behind it. There's typos, most likely, and I think I'll be posting a chapter of Silent Film Star before I post the next one of this, though it'll be soon. I don't think there's much else to say about this and if there is, I'll add it later. 
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Dean could not believe this.

"I said no and that's the end of it."

"Cas, he could be in danger."

He really could not.

He watched on as Castiel shoved clothes in his bag, Jimmy's bag next to him and neglected. The ATC was refusing to go after his brother, he had all but repeated the "Fuck you" he had been told once he got out of the bathroom and Dean was at a little of a loss of what he possibly could say to convince him otherwise. It was a damn fine line to tread, with the only thing to let him know if he fucked up the tightness in his voice or if he hunched in even more because he was refusing to look at him, no matter how he tried to get in his line of sight.

"No, he's with Balthazar because regardless of how much he bitches and moans about him, he seems to be a better option than my fucked up existence at the moment."

Suffice to say, Dean saw he was in one of his more negative moods.

The name was new, though.

"Balthazar?"

"My neighbour. He's a model, he's British, he's the most inappropriate man out there that can manage to still sound classy to others, which I imagine is because Americans always seem fascinated with accents. He's also taking care of Queen, but now he has a fucking baby in a trench coat to deal with."

Geez. With everything he had been through, Dean liked to believe he was a light sleeper, it was necessary, but he sure as hell must have missed a good chunk of their argument and of course he had to open his mouth.

"What's this about, Cas? You two don't seem like the kind to have disagreements like this and you both threw out some pretty harsh things out there from what I heard."

Castiel paused in his manhandling his bag, looking as if debating whether or not to tell him then shook his head and sighed.

"All of this. The drugs, the running, breaking laws. You."

"Me?"

He knew he was not the best guy to hang out with, now more than ever, but he was never reason for brothers to fight.

"He doesn't like you, he puts a lot of this on you, actually. I'd never have gone back to Alastair, he would still be back in Pontiac, I'd still be 'happy,'" Dean should take this seriously and he was, except the air quotes were really not giving that vibe, "Which is stupid, really. He doesn't know, I made sure of it, that I just-" The man caught himself before saying anything else, brow furrowed at what was coming out of his own mouth and shrugging it off, "Never mind. It doesn't matter now."

That should have been the end of it, except it was not because Castiel was his-

… What was he supposed to call Castiel?

Certainly more than a friend and definitely not something as shallow–to him, at least, it seemed shallow–as friends with benefits, he did not do that. Boyfriend sounded too teenage like to him, he was freaking thirty-two years old, there had to be a better word than boyfriend that would not make him feel again like the awkward fourteen year old not understanding what the cheerleading captain meant when she asked if he and his girlfriend at the time had gone all the way and watching her confusion when he said yes, they had gone through all the way through their routine, there was no need to worry about them flubbing during the competition.

Partner? Then he thought about Sam always talking about his partner and lawyer jargon, that was out.

Later he would ask Castiel about it and settled, albeit with a bit reluctancy, on boyfriend.

So, Castiel was his boyfriend and his mental well being and everything was priority, that meant he went over to where he was angrily pulling things out and shoving them back in, grabbed his hands to stop him and had him face him.

"Hey. It matters, alright? You can go ahead and say it doesn't until you're blue in the face, but you're not going to change my mind or make me want to know what's bugging you any less."

The other finally looked up at him and those bright blue eyes looked so sad and far more vulnerable than he ever saw them, it made his heart ache.

"It… I… life," was what he settled on saying before shaking his head and starting over when he saw Dean's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "Jimmy has a good life, a family of his own, he has faith, he's happy. And I'm glad, I've never wanted anything less for him. I just… I don't know that life. Before this, I had a good job, I had friends, I had a roof over my head, I should've been happy, shouldn't I? And so I said I was, I had to be. I thought, for my family I can… I can do this one thing right, I can be normal, I can be the good twin, too. I can be… _fixed,_ for once, useful, and not just take up space and give back so little. And maybe one day I won't feel trapped, I won't be stifling myself, I won't just have vague memories of what it is to be happy all the time because of drugs, I'll have something more."

That was… depressing.

"Cas…"

All his life, Dean knew what it was to be happy. His mother and father made him happy as a little boy, then Sammy when he was born. And he also knew true sadness, he knew bereavement at a young age, with the loss of his mother. He also knew what it was, albeit learning slowly, what it was to heal from that hurt. Growing up, he dealt with a lot of things, good things, bad things, though there was always happiness, something to keep him hanging on, to let him know he was well and truly alive, to keep on going, keep fighting.

Everything Castiel said just now was pretty much going against that, he was doing nothing more than going where the tide took him and forcing himself to believe that was what happiness should be for him. And he wanted happiness, that much was clear to him, or else he would not be working so hard to convince himself and suddenly, all that passion for flying made more sense, as did the reason he chose his tattoos. Originally, he thought the wings were a play on his name, angelic name meant angelic wings, simply tainted some by bad, the drugs. That would have been less heartbreaking than this, taking everything he ever said along with this.

The man genuinely seemed to think he was broken, that he could not live what he thought was normal and flying was, in a sense, a coping method, it let him feel alive, no longer trapped in a cycle that was his life. Turning to drugs at the age he did and having this belief that he was never the "good twin," a good person overall, he must never have experienced happiness the natural way, all he had was this muted version that he thought he should be satisfied with because it was a small fraction of the euphoria drugs gave him.

Shit, and the meth probably did nothing to help that out, only exacerbated it all, maybe that was why he was spilling his heart out, must have gotten to be too much.

Castiel looked away and pulled back his hands, grabbing his duffle bag along with Jimmy's bag that he left behind. All of that was not something he meant to mention, he was simply supposed to stay quiet and live his life as it was and be content. He was intending to bullshit enough that their argument seemed legitimate and then everything sort of spilt out. Maybe it was because of Dean.

Dean, who did not even know him and still took his hand with the intent to protect him. Dean, who had felt comfortable enough to open up to him a few days into knowing him. Dean, who saw him at his worst under the influence of meth and stayed by his side.

Dean crashed into his life with no warning and made him feel alive all the time, not simply a fleeting thing, and that was a hell of a lot of power, of influence, to hold over his life, yet it did not worry him, not really.

Whatever one might say it was, he gave the same response of, "It doesn't matter now." At the door, however, he stopped with his hand on the knob and amended the statement, something he felt was very important, "You make me happy, Dean Winchester," and exited the room to get everything in the car and check them out. The mechanic was left in the room, processing the words and huffing, a small smile playing on his lips. It was not the perfect solution and there were God knows how many years of all of that to undo. Baby steps, he supposed, and they would get there. Hell, both of them would get there in time and they would do it together, which was what really mattered, right?

He thought so.

For the time being, the two found their way to LA, Castiel actually knowing a lot more than Dean at this point on what streets to take for once, having explored its entirety often with Balthazar, whenever he had days off and would accompany the male to work. Which was boring, most times, he told Dean, but amusing whenever he tried to jack up the photoshoots when he noticed the Brit was in need of a break and was denied one, with more than once being threatened to be kicked out.

The car was left in a lot, five dollars for the day, all three bags taken along and Castiel led him by the hand down the crowded streets, claiming that they had to have food and could decide what to do then. Seeing as they usually hit small, out of the way joints, this location was freaking huge and packed for being the morning. The mechanic looked up as much as he could to read the sign.

"Grand Central Market."

"It's a good place, lots of options. And no one will even notice us, we'll blend right in."

It was more like smashed into one big blob of people, Dean had to excuse himself about ten times in the few minutes it took them to get where the seats were and find an empty table for them.

"Save this table, or else we'll never get another. I'm going to get us food, I'll have my phone with me."

No room was left for protest, simply gave Dean's hand a kiss before letting go and disappearing into the crowd. Castiel waited until he was in line and certain that Dean would not show up to pull out his phone. It was not one he was used to anymore, one with a sliding keyboard, but it did the job and notified him of new text messages.

_Queen looks well. Balthazar is still his unpleasant self._

_How did you deal with him? He won't stop singing Shake It Off. I'm not singing with him._

_He misses you._

_I hope you're safe._

"Sir?"

The ATC turned his attention to the one at the register, smiling because there was a little more reason to smile right now knowing he was safe and well and ordering something for Dean. As much as he wanted something from here, he ended up going to Press Brothers. Healthy food was great and all, he liked healthy options, he also liked to say fuck it and have a good, juicy cheeseburger once in awhile. Jimmy had been adamant in healthy food until all effects of the withdrawal was gone and he respected that.

He sure as shit was getting himself the biggest cheeseburger possible when this was over.

With his drink and Dean's breakfast sandwich, he made his way back and placed the box in front of the other, who gawked at the food before him.

"Holy _shit,_ that's a sandwich."

"It's a Fairfax. I personally like the Gaucho more, but they don't serve that until eleven thirty."

"What'd you get?"

"Drop Acid. Needless to say, this seems far more appropriate a way to say I dropped acid than I did when I was fifteen."

Castiel smiled wryly as he spoke and Dean tried to smile and laugh along, it was hard with everything still fresh in his mind and he hid this behind taking a bite of his sandwich, moaning in appreciation because damn, this was good, better than a handful of diner breakfasts he had. That distracted the other enough that he forgot what he was saying for a moment then regrouping his thoughts elsewhere, pulling out a folded piece of paper and pen.

"The place isn't far, we can get there easily enough from here, but… I don't understand, what do you want to do? Go in there, imaginary guns blazing and hope to God we don't get killed?"

The paper, once unfolded, showed a sloppily written name and addresses along with a series of illegible scribbles that Castiel, for the life of him, could not read and he was the one who wrote it. Of course, these were written almost right after snorting a few lines of meth and he could barely stand still, needing to go do something, anything, and believing that writing it down was unnecessary, he could remember anything. Not that he actually did, most of it was hazy and only snippets were clear, and he recalled snorting at this time and stumbling along the hallway to hear Alastair talking to someone or multiple someone's, who cared at the time. He was saying something about Lilith, Azazel and Jimmy's house, so naturally he listened in and then it was on the first two, about LA and other things his memory did not retain.

Lilith and Azazel were important to Dean, he thought, and he was supposed to also help Dean. Perfectly reasonable to somehow get the information to him, though he was not certain when he would see him again and writing it down was good, he could send it. It was stuffed in his bag for later and then he saw Dean that night, it slipping his mind entirely.

Not his finest moment, none of that was, one of the few good things to come out of it this piece of paper and Dean finished his bite before talking.

"Nah. We go scope out the place, make sure it's there and then make a plan to go in there, imaginary guns blazing and not get killed, and get those two sons of bitches."

"And no one gets killed?"

"No. But I'm not saying I'm not going to throw a well deserved hit or two. They'll still be able to talk. First, you got to draw out the area for me, no good if I don't know it."

There was no doubt that the two did deserve what was coming, Castiel was simply worried that it would not be as easy as Dean made it seem. In the end, he still ended up sketching out the area, marking known street names and locations, with the agreement that if they were separated, they would meet back here.

"When will we go?"

"Seems too early right now, they might not be there." Dean wiped his face with his napkin, food gone and Castiel had finished his drink in the time they had talked, as good a time as any and he grinned, "How about you show me the sights around here?" They had time to kill and so much shit was thrown their way, some amount of downtime would help them in the long run, give them time to recharge. The ATC was more than happy to comply and they were out and about in no time. When he visited Sam, they tended to stay in a certain area, nothing like this, except the crowded streets. He was a little thrown off, then, by the forward nature displayed by the workers that stood outside their stores to attract attention. More than once, one–always a female, he saw no males standing out there–would grab his wrist and slip on a rubber bracelet, words flying out of their mouths a mile a minute as they tried to drag him into their store and he doubt he would understand if it was in English, so Spanish was a lost cause. All of those times, Castiel would be jerked along involuntarily because of their joined hands and he had to step in with an apologetic smile and saying something that sounded like no thanks, they were not interested right now and something about a good day. He knew a little bit of Spanish, he said, because it made it easier to communicate with some people he knew, and also added in the advice, "Don't make eye contact if you're not planning to buy anything." Dean still did by accident a few times and they ended up buying jackets as a result of one of those times and Castiel bought an insane amount of water and snacks that caught his eye.

Where they ended up was Pershing Square and Castiel explained how they had an ice rink set up from November to January. Barely missing it, he was kind of glad that they did, not totally into the idea of possibly falling on his ass and the other laughed when he told him, promising him, "I'll teach you how not to embarrass yourself, consider it a birthday gift." The implication of that promise, that they would still be back here next here together made the prospect of making an ass of himself a little more appealing. It was easy to sit there and talk with him about whatever came to mind.

Particularly, Castiel wanted to learn more about cars, claiming it was because they were important to Dean and he thought it would be useful to know in case he ever decided to invest in a better car and drive more than to work and back. In return, Dean learnt a lot more about planes and it did not erase his discomfort, knowing more on how planes worked, he still thought it was unnatural and preferred driving, but he promised he would give it a shot one day if Castiel was the pilot.

Then, Dean had to ask.

"Cas, what do you call this?"

Castiel squinted at him, thinking, "You're asking me about our relationship, to define it." Although he had not been in a relationship in years, he did not live under a rock, he was asked this question before. All he wanted was to confirm he was understanding him correctly, not wanting to sound like an idiot and jumping to conclusions, answer being formulated when it was, "Boyfriends is the most obvious we could call ourselves," Dean scrunched his nose at that and he added, "Of course, if that's not satisfactory, I could call you… my world, but then what would I be, your ocean, your sky? Or, better yet, you could be my sun and stars, I could be the moon of your life." The mechanic stared openly, seeing the steadily growing smile of his otherwise serious expression.

"Did you reference Game of Thrones?"

"I believe I did." A laugh was shared and Castiel spoke once more, "I don't quite see the necessity to call ourselves anything like boyfriends or partners or anything that's been come up with. It wasn't… conventional, how our relationship began, I'm aware, and it's not something that we can share if people ask without getting some type of judgement. So why share what we have with anyone and fit some preconceived notion? You are mine and I am yours, that is what matter to me, nothing else. Anyone who tries to make you or I believe differently can fuck off and step on a Lego."

"How romantic, I especially like the Lego part."

"I try."

Hopping up, Castiel took Dean's hand and they carried on, never straying too far from where they started off and that was hardly a problem, time passed almost instantaneously because suddenly Dean found himself with the other in a rather bleak part of LA. There were not nearly as many people around and the further they got, the more he noticed homeless people on every street.

"Is this like the homeless spot of LA?"

"There's a higher population here, yes. I've come by to areas like these and closer to home when I can, they're very nice people."

Carrying their bags around and his buying so many water bottles and snacks made sense now as he watched Castiel head over to a couple with a dog and talk to them, getting the man to stand up and he sized him and the female up before nodding, pulling out a pair of jeans and two shirts along with some food. Then he pet the dog and made his way back over.

"I don't know how you can't think you're a good person, Cas."

It came out, it just did, and Castiel dropped his gaze down to his bag which fuck, he fucked up, and the man shrugged.

"I'm not, not really. I just know how hard it can be and how any form of help can be what keeps one from simply… falling."

Nothing more was said and they went down the streets, pausing every so often to give until they had nothing left–even their bags were handed over, they decided since they were almost at the end, they would no longer need them–and Castiel was talking with a guy who had a tent and everything and by the end handed him some money and got a hug with his thanks. Seeing him make that guys day, it was rewarding in its own right, it really was, and distracted him from staring at the piece of paper he was memorising.

It was important to know every inch of it, just in case. Scouting or barging in, the risks were no less and Dean was concerned about what could happen. His life, he was perfectly alright with putting at risk. Castiel's, not so much. Keeping that in mind, he tucked away the paper and headed over to the man he had just been talking to, seeing as he already moved on down the street and was speaking to a lady. The homeless man had looked up from his new jacket and Dean smiled.

"Hey, so I've got a favour to ask you and your pals…"

Engrossed in this woman's tale of how she came to be homeless, Castiel paid little attention to what was going on around him and noticed Dean only when he came up and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

"I hate to interrupt, but we got to get going."

"Oh." How disappointing, he was enjoying the conversation, "We can talk some other time, Melinda. And I'll bring you some new shoes and pads."

She was delighted at the prospect and waved at them as they left, her cheery attitude maybe one of the only things that made this less somber as they reached the building, keeping a safe distance from it.

"Now what?"

Now what indeed.

"Now we see how maybe goons are out here and figure out how to get in, maybe knock out the power for a bit. If we come when it's dark, that'll give us the advantage."

"You _do_ realise we've never been in there and they have? If we knock out the power, won't they navigate better than us?"

"Don't rain on my parade, Cas. We can get a layout of the place, can't be too hard, there's a library, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"That's all we need."

Castiel sighed and no longer "rained on his parade," going along with Dean and remaining as small as possible. The plan was to get a look at the place and gauge the amount of people around, that was it, the next plan could come later, he told himself, there was nothing to worry about. On the outside, it did not seem like there were many people guarding against intruders. Most likely all inside, though Castiel could not be certain. Despite having used for so long and bringing in customers for Alastair, he never really actually saw production, he had as good an idea as the next about where the hell it came from.

All his time there and he never figured it out, rather useless now that they were here. Dean did not appear upset when he told him and said they would figure that out together, it was fine, and then Castiel felt he was too good for him, too understanding and shit, but maybe that was because he was used to hearing the opposite of understanding. In any case, they counted seven people so far and were making their way around to the other side when the loud bang of a gunshot and ricochet off a nearby wall caused them to jump away, alert and locating the man who had aimed at them.

Lucky he had such a shitty aim for being so close.

Faced with a man with a gun, most would think "run away," right? Whatever primitive part of the human mind that triggered that response must have been dead in the mechanic because he launched himself at the man and Castiel could only stare in horror as they went down and fists started flying.

"Cas, get out of here!"

It must have been dead in him, too, because he stood there like a fucking idiot until he heard more voices and Dean no longer had the upper hand. His whole brain must have been dead, really, since he had no idea what he was doing at the moment. There was the gun, the gun the man no doubt was going to try and use, and then there he was, picking up the gun and aiming, he blinked, the guy was out of commission, and Dean was still, blood splattered on his face and eyes wide.

 _"… Oh fuck,"_ was all he managed to squeak out before Dean was pushing the body off of him and grabbing his hand, legs working to keep him from being dragged along, both flinching when the gunshots sounded too close. The fact that he still had the gun gripped tightly in his hand shocked his brain back into working and he turned around as much as he could without letting Dean go since he would probably fall over if he tried this otherwise, firing off a few rounds. He was not aiming at anyone in particular, he hoped he did not hit anyone, honestly, it was only meant to buy time as they turned the corner.

"We got to go separate ways!"

"What?!"

Now the idea of separating seemed ludicrous to Castiel, it was too dangerous, too risky, too much everything and then he could not watch out for Dean.

"They'll split up and we'll have a better chance! Now go!"

The most painful thing of this all was not how his legs hurt or his lungs burnt, funnily enough. It was the fact that Dean had to let go of his hand and pushed him away to a different direction, already going his way and Castiel slowed down. He stupidly slowed down and people with fucking guns were after them, which became apparent soon enough and his body kicked back into gear.

Sure enough, they did split up and Castiel kept running, he ran as fast as he could, to the point where when he turned the next corner, he almost skidded right off balance and stumbled a little. But that was okay, he still had a lead, it was this street, two more and then there should be people, he could pull up his hood and blend in, find his way back to Grand Central Market and Dean would be there and he would tell him he was an idiot and should have ran in the first place.

And that should have been the plan, that was the plan, and the plan came to a halt due to a hand shooting out and grabbing his arm as he passed by, ruining his momentum and lurching back when the hand tugged. Panic had his heart racing as he painfully tumbled into something hard, quickly gathering from the change in lighting and feel that it was a tent.

Fuck, was that sweet homeless man not as sweet as he thought?

The man had poked his head in and Castiel barely got out, "What're you do-" when he said something that was comforting and the farthest thing from it at the same time.

"Your sun and stars says to wait here."

Tent opening zipping up, Castiel laid there, exactly how he was thrown in, realising the hard he hit was the wall, unsure what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to go meet Dean, how was he going to being stuck here, what was he doing, what in the fuck was he doing? Shadows passed by awfully soon and the distance he thought was present seemed so small now, it made him feel ill and hold his breath, whatever good that would do.

However much time went by, it was all the same to him, and he had positioned himself to sit, phone out in case Dean called or texted. Must still be checking he was not followed, that was it, that had to be it. Footsteps were heard and his free hand moved over to the gun resting next to him, wide eyes on the opening and breath shaky.

Do not come in, do not, he did not want to shoot anyone else, he did not want to make a mess of this kind man's tent.

"Did you find him?"

"No, we lost him after this street, there's only homeless around."

What male number one did not please female number one and female number two interjected.

"It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for the other, we'll get him then."

No.

_No, no, no._

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then Lilith will just kill him."

It was sick how they laughed at that whilst Castiel had to lift his hand to cover his mouth, he had to keep quiet, he had to keep quiet or else they would find him and Dean would be killed, no doubt he would follow. And he could not get caught, he had to get Dean, he had to save him.

He had a gun, it had a few rounds left in it, he could do it.

No, he could not. Denial was easier, deny that was true, thinking he could barrel right on through and save him was easier, that was simple, clean, from point one to point two. That was what they wanted, they wanted him to succumb to his emotions, be irrational, go without a plan and walk into a trap.

That was not going to save Dean, that would get them both killed.

Sliding out the keyboard of his phone and scrolling down to type out a new message was hard, his fingers would not stop trembling and his vision blurred, resulting in a poorly typed out message sent.

_Beoadwau a d Thirs . Pleasee._

The reply came back almost instantly.

_Be there in ten._

Pocketing the phone, he reached out and tapped lightly at the opening, the man unzipping it for him.

"I-I… could I borrow clothes? I need-I have to get… not caught."

What came out was less eloquent than what was intended to be said, not that it mattered to the man and Castiel found himself with a ratty pair of sweats over his jeans and jacket over his hoodie, a hat fitted on because his hair was "like a beacon," the man said. This kind man, who walked with him and asked nothing along the way. Only when they reached a point where the streets were considerably more populated and Castiel had shed the clothes to give back did he ask.

"Son, why's he saying he's your sun and stars?"

Castiel did not bother to think about it.

"Because I'm the moon of his life."

And it hurt so damn much to smile about that, he felt his eyes burning again, they had been joking about that just this morning, how in the fuck did it go to shit so fast?

Lilith. It was all Lilith and Castiel never wished he could hurt anyone without consequences before, not so savagely as he did now. All he could do for the time being is adjust his hood and walk down the streets, on the lookout and make his way to where he asked to be picked up.

True to their word, he saw Balthazar pulling up, Jimmy in the backseat and Castiel clambered on in, not saying a word and doing nothing more than pressing his face into his brother's shoulder. Worrisome, yes, and Jimmy looked at Balthazar through the rearview mirror and shook his head at the raised eyebrow, at a loss of what caused this, reaching over to click his seatbelt on for him and keeping his arm around him.

As soon as Jimmy had received the message, he had gotten up from his chair so quickly, he startled Sam and Balthazar.

"We need to go."

He insisted Sam stay because where Castiel was, Dean could not be far and that was a meeting that could wait for awhile longer. After he had told him all he knew, they remained in the office for awhile, then ended up at Sam's place because this was a more private deal, no need to remain there. That was not entirely thought through, where they might go after, Jimmy's thoughts on what could have happened to Castiel. Not one to ever purposely type like a five year old smashing a keyboard, he had jumped to the conclusion that something was wrong and something was. It was not cold, not at all, but his brother was shaking and he was disturbingly quiet, the whole damn ride was, and he could feel a wet spot forming on his shirt.

Jimmy was ridiculously grateful that came to an end quickly enough and they were parked in front of Sam's house, with its little picket fence and unassuming cream exterior. He had to unbuckle them both and slide out along with him, Balthazar following and staying by his other side, hand on his back. The door opened and Sam was there, looking at the three of them and then over them, no doubt looking for his brother.

"Where's-"

Castiel suddenly fell into him with a whump, arms still at his side and doing nothing else, just standing there and mumbling.

_"I broke my promise."_

It took getting him inside them house, sitting him down on the couch and patience before whatever it was wore off and Castiel said something other than he broke his promise.

"Lilith has Dean. We were spotted, I'm ninety-nine percent certain I killed a man and injured at least another, we split up, a homeless man saved me, Dean told him, and I broke my promise. I'm supposed to keep him safe. I… I should go, I can get him…"

Castiel was reaching towards his back and oh, he had a gun, that brought back unpleasant memories and made his shoulder hurt. The Brit reached over and pried it out of his hand.

"How about we not keep that around, hm? It'll be okay, Cassie, we'll figure something out. Sam was already making use of Jimmy's information."

That finally got Castiel to squint at his brother, who smiled and shrugged.

"I overheard some stuff I thought would help."

Red rimmed eyes moving back to his hands, he stayed silent for awhile and then turned to Sam.

"What do you know so far?"

Although Jimmy gave him a lot more than he could ever hope to get himself, Castiel was loaded with a lot more and Sam was a bit surprised at the brutal honesty of everything he said, up to his past drug use which accounted for his extensive knowledge. A lot more than Sam could say, he always shied away from that point in his life, ashamed of what he did and said. For Castiel, it appeared to be the complete opposite, he divulged it the way one would discuss a book, a story, that was what happened and that was it.

Once everything was written down and he let Castiel know what he would do with it, he realised that it was nearing the three hour mark and got up to stretch, the ATC did not budge.

"Hey, uh, you should get some rest, Castiel. The guest bedroom is first on the right."

Sam hardly expected him to move, the man was insistent on helping and was not accepting any food, drinks or anything, saying he was okay. Somehow, he doubted that, the one-eighty was too sudden, too perfect. And it reminded him of Dean, in a way, the way he acted like nothing was wrong and deflected questions with jokes or quips. Doing that must have exhausted him because he shuffled away silently, door clicking behind him. His brother took his spot not long after, looking over the papers strewn about after instructing the Brit to keep Castiel company. For comfort, not because he did not trust him and he observed him for a beat.

"Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"Your shoulder."

He could recognise injuries without a problem and the other did not answer right away, reading the papers, "No, he doesn't. He doesn't remember it happening and he has enough on his plate as is, we all do. Dean told me I should, never found the right moment. Definitely not now, I've never seen him like this before." Knowing how broken up Castiel had to be that his brother never saw it spoke volumes for how much he cared. A happy thing, it should have been, to know that his big brother found someone like that, the kind of person Dean would have been proud to have meet their parents, if they were still alive. But it never should have been like this, it should not be shown because Dean was captured and they were trying to get him out.

For being supposed priority, Sam was not receiving return calls fast enough and that was pissing him off. This was his brother, his life was a stake, and he had to wait for a call to let him know what was going to happen. It would help if they had more to build a case, not only Castiel's word because he believed him, without a second thought, others he talked to were not so sure, mainly because he left out who exactly provided the information, to prevent police most likely coming and arresting him. He had to get his mind off of this, it only worked him up and then he would never get any work done, remaining level headed was necessary and distractions helped.

"They're good, aren't they? Together."

"Disgustingly so. I've heard."

Heard?

_… Oh._

"Ewh."

"You have _no_ idea."

There was little more they could do but wait for calls and it was a good thing Jess was working one of her longer shifts at the hospital, he would hate to get her all wrapped up in this. They all ate dinner, Castiel finished first and retreated back to the room and after watching some television, Balthazar followed. That had been two hours ago and the soft drone of the television was the only real sound in the house until the shouting began.

"Let go of me!"

"Calm down then!"

"Fuck you, _let go!"_

Both on the couch were in the room in no time, seeing Castiel stomp on Balthazar's foot and knocking his head back into the Brit's face to be released. His gaze moved between the two of them, in his way, scowling, "Get out of my way." No way in hell and he might not be able to stop him, though Sam most likely could and he stayed calm.

"Why don't you tell us what's going on first?"

"I'm going to kill that fuck stain is what's going on, now move."

As soon as Balthazar was not in any immediate pain, he picked up the phone in the bed and started tapping away, "She left a voicemail," was the reason provided for his attitude, playing it and a female voice filling the room.

"Hello, angel. You're a sneaky one, aren't you, flying away before we could play. That's okay, Dean and I have been having _a lot_ of fun together. Say hello, Dean," there was no response, "He's a little out of it right now, sorry! You know, I don't like people who are mean to me and you've been extra mean. And poor little Dean is here _all alone…_ how about you join him, so we can all play? I'll give you until tomorrow or else Dean… well, playtime will be over for him."

"Cas… Cas, don't… five, number-"

A smack and rustling cut him off and Lilith piped up.

"Don't keep me waiting, angel!"

That was the end of the voicemail and Castiel was clenching his fists, teeth grinding down, "Let me go. I'm not going to let her hurt him anymore."

"Cas, she's counting on you to go, it's a trap."

 _"I don't_ _care,_ I can figure something out! Sam hasn't gotten anywhere with his calls and I'm not going to sit here waiting!"

The ATC did not mean to hurl an accusation at Sam, he seemed like a sweet boy, he was doing what he could, using every resource he had, but he could hardly think straight anymore. Upon hearing the voicemail, all rational thought went out the window. Lilith was going to pay and he was going o make sure of it, there was no room for debate. And he knew it was hurtful, what he said, saw it affect Sam and let out a slow breath.

"I didn't mean that, Sam, I know you're trying. But I can't wait for legal processes, especially when I don't know if they're going to do shit for Dean's safety when it comes down to it."

Accusation aside, Sam acknowledged he had a point. Legal processes could sometimes take a very long time, more with something like this, merely speculation and at best, circumstantial evidence. And he was trying, he was doing just about everything he could do. Thing was, just about was not everything and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, weighing out the pros and cons. Castiel was determined and hell, so was he, but getting everyone on board would be a challenge.

He hated how he considered this, but they were running out of options and this would get them the help they needed so much quicker than anything else.

"Actually, there's something else we can try…"

\---

"You're delusional if you think Cas is going to come, you know."

Dean's ass hurt, he was certain he was going to lose feeling in it soon, having been seated for so long and not of his own volition. His arms were also tired of being stuck like this, tied to the rests of this cheap wooden chair. Not cheap enough that he could break them right off, he tried that already and all he had to show for it was aching wrists and a punch to the stomach. And a few punches to the face, though those were probably because of making snide remarks and waiting until the right moment to do something like projectile vomit all the blood accumulated in his mouth on dick number three's jeans and shoes after kicking dick number two in the family jewels.

Some actual vomit may or may not have come up with the punch to the stomach, which was gross and the putrid taste remained in his mouth.

"I think you underestimate his loyalty to you. Such a regular, sweet boy before you and suddenly, he's killing my men and breaking all kinds of laws just for you."

He kind of wished he saved his blood and puke for her, get it all over her white dress and flats, it would fit her disgusting personality and she was all kinds of wrong, why not show it on the outside.

"Nah. I don't question how he feels about me or what he'll do. I know what he's capable of and there's no way in hell he'd fall for your trap."

Later, he questioned if he spoke too soon.

Because dick number one came into this sad, bare little room that was probably once some sort of break room for this building, declaring something that made his heart drop.

"Castiel's been spotted near by."

 _Fuck._ What was he thinking? Lilith clapped her hands together happily and had a grossly wide smile.

"Perfect! Why don't we let him in and then give him a nice, warm welcome?"

Fuck, fuck, this was not how it was supposed to go. Castiel was supposed to be the one who thought it all through, he was tactical and all kinds of good shit that would get them through this, both alive.

Dick number one radioed it in and that fucking smile was directed at him this time.

"Isn't your little angel just the sweetest? I told you he'd come for you."

Dean scowled, jerking forward as far as the ropes binding him would let him and if there was ever a time he wanted to Houdini his way out, it was now so he could just snap this bitch's neck.

"You leave him alone. He hasn't done shit to you."

"Maybe not to me personally. But I feel like it and I can use my worker's death as reason, can't I? Besides, why else do you think you're still alive other than to bring him to me?"

"I'd tell you, but thing is, you're a bitch, so you might be too–"

A crackle of static coming from dick number one's radio caused him to cut off, voices distorting until there was a shriek and it tuned itself.

"… I'll get you out of there, Dean. I promise. You'll be safe."

There was a sudden screech of feedback and garbled sounds a few seconds then a flick and the radio's speaker blared its little heart out.

_"Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time! And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach! Another clever word, sets off an unsuspecting herd."_

No amount of fiddling would return it to normal and Lilith spun on her heel to glare at her henchmen, hissing out, "What are you waiting for? Go get him!" And Dean grinned at her slip up that showed behind that ugly childish facade she had.

"Scared he's going to take you down?"

That got him a harsh slap to the face and he bit his cheek as a result, still chuckling and cracking his jaw.

"Shut up. Once I get him, we'll get started."

Dick number one left his radio with them with the song continuing on a loop and around the third time, it buzzed and warbled once again. By the time it cleared up, there were shouts coming in.

"Fuck! Jimmy, get out of there!"

Jimmy had come along?

Last he knew, the other was with Balthazar because of the argument the brothers had and Castiel said it would be better for all of them in the long run. Dean assumed they would not be on speaking terms or any type of good terms.

"Damn it, Castiel, go! I'm right behind you!"

No doubt, Jimmy found out Castiel was planning something somehow and refused to let him go it alone.

There was the sound of a door slamming shut and goons talking and then a soft:

"… I'm so sorry, brother."

It was followed by a sickening sound of a strike landing and a grunt as a body dropped.

No.

Fuck, this was not supposed to happen. Nails digging into the chair he was bound in, the ropes cut into his wrists from how he tried to rip free from them and was failing miserably. He was going to kill them for hurting Castiel, absolutely murder them in the worst way he could possibly think of. The door opened again and dick number one was accompanied by dick number two, each holding up the one in between them by his arms and holy shit, no, this was the worst thing that could have happened.

It was not Castiel they had hurt.

No hint of bright blue in his hair, no piercings in sight when Lilith tilted up his head up from how it was hanging, and blood was trickling out of his nose and mouth but there was the proudest shit eating grin he ever did see.

"Wrong brother, Lilith."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awh, that was a sad part for Castiel, it was a sad thing to write. Happy, at the end, and they had a nice talk about where they stood after, but still was sad. And any possible healing did vanish with Dean gone, though it'll get better. It's almost at the end now, maybe a chapter or two left, so happy times ahead. 
> 
> Grand Central Market, for those who have never gone, is a very, very busy place, it's bordering on ridiculous sometimes. I don't eat meat or anything, but the times I've gone with my brother, he swears the Gaucho is the best, worth the eleven dollars. It's from a place called Eggslut, in case anyone is in the area and wants to try. Drop Acid is real, too, it's rather good. 
> 
> And the employees of stores around there, all the times I've gone are very, very insistent on trying to get you into the store one way or another and they sure can talk. It's their job, so I always feel bad telling them no and choose not to look if I can help it, they don't approach you then. Maybe it's like that all over LA, I haven't really explored it all, which I probably should have, living so close all my life;; 
> 
> Pershing Square does have an ice rink in those months and people seem to enjoy it often, I've only watched, I couldn't skate to save my life. Fun attraction, one of many, in LA. 
> 
> The location chosen where Castiel and Dean go is based on a spot I once went to give food and clothes to the homeless. It was actually something Misha organised, I went with my girlfriend, she gave West a lollipop, I said hi, it was fun. I've gone back since then a few times and a lot of them are quite nice, though people sadly don't seem too happy to see me walk into a restaurant or store with a few of them. 
> 
> I think that's all the notes for now.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has decided he is going to kill Lilith first. Then Azazel. And then dick number one, two and three. Though, he is still putting Jimmy first, he has a promise to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I was going to post this after a new chapter of Silent Film Star, but I had a lot of this already done, so why not? Though, part of it was accidentally deleted, it really sucked, I had to write it all over because I couldn't retrieve it and I feel like it turned out ewh because of that. This skips a bit, like the last chapter. There are really vague depictions of torture that I felt would be best to leave it that way, which is the reason for the skips. If there are any typos, I'll go back and fix them, and feel free to leave comments.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

"You idiots! This isn't Castiel! Where is he?"

Lilith released the tuft of Jimmy's hair she had been clutching and turned her glare to the two men, holding up a hand when she saw them exchange a look, trying to figure out how Castiel had given them the slip. Again.

"No. I don't want to hear it. Get him tied up, I'll come back."

That was all she said before leaving the room and then Jimmy was being shoved into the spare chair, wincing at the force on his back and when one had his hand on his right shoulder to prevent him from moving, keeping his mouth shut until they left them alone and the footsteps receded.

"I like what you've done with the place."

"I worked with what I had."

A pregnant pause and then:

"What are you even doing here? I didn't think you'd be talking to Cas any time soon."

"He wanted you out, I wanted to keep him from going on a suicide mission and all arguments aside, he's still my brother."

"Stellar job you did with the rescue mission, now we're both stuck here."

"Castiel is still out there, I have faith."

A whole lot of good faith would do them now. Unless God or someone zapped them out of there, it was not likely that faith would be worth anything to anyone around here. Maybe with that whole "God gives me strength" deal could make someone not so scared, he had no idea exactly how devout the other was and how firm his belief was in all of that, but he did not have anything like that. He had faith in himself, in what he could do, in what he could see and work with, which was enough, right?

Had to be, really, because that was what was going to get them out, get them somewhere safe. All he needed was a good plan, which he could come up with, just give him a little time, and then he would get Jimmy and they would get the hell out of dodge. The man being present did add a wrench in some plans and opened up others. Two was better than one, after all.

Time was something Dean had not been keeping the best track of because worrying whether his nose was broken or if the hits were not going to do permanent damage was a bit distracting and he passed out earlier on, so sue him. If he had to guess, he would say that about half an hour went by before the door opened up and Lilith walked back in along with a man who was holding an iPhone and some other device, some kind of radio.

"Well, well, look who we have here."

Jimmy moved his gaze from his hands to the man, eyes narrowed at him and what he carried.

"Azazel."

"And you must be Jimmy. I have to say, the resemblance is uncanny."

"That's usually how identical twins work, unless you, not surprisingly, did not know that."

Dean gawked at the words that left the other's mouth, how he did not bat an eyelash as he threw out hardly concealed insults. Of course, he had been the target of that kind of sass in the time they knew each other, plenty of times, though he figured that was because Castiel knew him, knew he would not harm either of them so he could say that, not that Jimmy would face the leader of this whole drug operation, tied to a chair, and still say things like that.

Kudos to him, honestly, he would do the same in his position, although he had a deal more exposure to people like this, the man was an average dude before all this with apparently no fear or pissed off enough that it no longer mattered. Azazel was unfazed and changed topics, showing the little radio as he made his way over, careful to keep out of his legs' way.

"When I gave the order to go after you and your family, to lure in Castiel, I have to say, I didn't think we'd end up here. Is this what you used to scramble our radios?"

Jimmy only spared it a glance and shrugged what he could, much more interested in examining the wall in front of him.

"I'm sure it's easy enough to figure out. At least, if you have smart enough people around you to explain it."

If he kept it up, Dean did not doubt that Jimmy was going to give them all the reason they needed to beat the living shit out of him, whether they got answers from him or not.

"Your last text to your brother shows you picked him up. Where might he be now?"

This time, he said nothing, lips pressed firmly together and the two objects were handed over to Lilith and a gun was pulled out, pressed firmly against his temple and Jimmy, the freaking guy, did not react, kept on staring at the wall in front of him. No one moved but holy shit did Dean want to. The safety was flicked off and all the man did was glance out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow raised as if asking, _"Well?"_

Fucking hell.

That was probably his play because Azazel pulled the gun back, impressed at the calm presented with the threat of death. Interesting, most would be panicking, begging him not to do it and this could be useful, very useful. Every person had their breaking point, the point where enough was enough and they would do or say anything to live, to be released. All he had to do was find it for this man. A family man, it should not be too difficult. One look at Lilith and she was on the iPhone, call made and on speakerphone, line ringing once and then came a voice.

"Jimmy? Jimmy, where are you?"

Castiel. He was still safe, still alive, there was still a chance they would all come out of this as well as they could be.

"Dear Jimmy is safe and sound with me. For now."

"… Who is this? Is this Azazel?"

"Very good. I heard Lilith offered you a deal and you thanked her by trying to break in. Not the best move you could make, Castiel, now we have Dean and your brother. But, if you come back, no tricks this time, it'll make it easier on all of you."

"Why would I do that? If I go, you'll just kill them, then me."

"I could just as easily kill them now and you'll have to listen."

"And then you won't know where I am or when I'll be coming for you."

This conversation was not going to end well, not that there was any way it would unless they decided to let them both go with no strings attached, and Dean scowled at the man standing beside Jimmy, trying to move himself forward, chair be damned. Maybe he could get their attention, get in the way, chair tackle him as absurd as he would look. He promised Castiel he would take care of Jimmy. Who the fuck cared if it seemed like he was never, in a million years, getting on Jimmy's good side, especially since the bridge and the whole being the reason Castiel started using and screwed all their lives up, he was going to keep to his word, even if it killed him. Preferably, he would like not to die, he kind of needed to stay alive to keep protecting him and there was plenty left to do. If worst came to worst, however, he would.

"You leave him alone, you son of a bitch."

Azazel turned to Dean, which was great. Not so great that he did not move towards him, stayed near him and gave a disgusting and easy smile, "Why should I? He seems very useful." His voice got on his nerves, why could he not just rip out his voice box.

"He doesn't know a thing, he isn't worth shit!" He saw Jimmy turn his head, eyes wide at the not so subtle insult, lips parting as if he wanted to retort, maybe insult him back and thinking better of it when recalling oh, right, not a normal situation, mouth snapping shut. Good, because that could be the difference between staying alive long enough to get out of there or having everything he knew pried out of him with rather inhumane methods. The duo did not look convinced, smiling in a way where he wanted to tear their faces off, do the whole world a favour.

"See, I don't think that's true. Look how riled up you're getting and you hardly know him. Imagine how Castiel feels, listening in, poor little brother of his captured…"

Without warning, Azazel took hold of the middle finger of Jimmy's right hand and with one movement, there was a sickening crack, Jimmy's eyes going wide and a sharp cry leaving his lips. Dean could not get far being tied to the chair and he sure as hell still did try, listening to the voice on the other line curse, "You bastard! Don't touch him! I'll kill you myself!" The mechanic was aware he was saying something of a very similar nature and all the man did was twist the finger, pulling out a choked and high gasp from the other, arm jerking as much as possible in a futile attempt to draw back and feet skittering some to try and scoot the chair away.

When he released the finger to grip his jaw and make him look up at him, Dean could see how his finger bent at an unnatural angle, having been broken, snapped, whatever it could be called at the joint between the second and third finger bone, "I'll ask again, where might your dear brother Castiel be?" Jimmy's bottom lip was trembling as he took in and let out unsteady breaths, eyes defiant and expression anything but willing to answer any of questions he might be asked and he had to applaud how he managed to put that in his words, even if they were strained from the pain, growled out between clenched teeth.

"W-we're twins, y-you peanut shell. He's not older… and I'm not telling you a thing."

Azazel released him and looked at Dean, some manner of impressed and nauseatingly amused, "He's got spunk. Reminds me of little Sammy." Another finger was grabbed, his pointer finger this time, giving a testable snap and Jimmy lurched forward all he could in his bonds, a wounded and guttural noise escaping him, making his own fingers hurt and Lilith ended the call before Castiel could say anything else, their message sent. The man's head was bowed, eyes clenched shut, and his breath rasped in before he finally took a deep breath in through his nose and met Azazel's eyes, his own narrowed and working fingers flexing.

"Two hundred four bones left unbroken. Have fun trying to get an answer before you run out."

Whatever beef Jimmy had with him, he did not care, the damn guy had nerves of fucking vibranium and he would not hesitate to tell him once they were left alone. The two shared a look and then the man grinned, patted his cheek, turning and leaving the room right after. Certain that they were far away enough and not being able to stand the only noise being Jimmy's breathing–which, he did not complain about to him, two of his freaking fingers were broken, he could be a lot louder–because it reminded him of not keeping the promise he made Castiel, he shifted all that he was allowed, planting his feet on the floor and trying to do something like walk over, turning out to be more like awkward, stuttered and decent distant hops. The thumps caused Jimmy to lift his head in his direction rather than observe his fingers, eyes squinted and brow furrowed, a trait the brothers seemed to share.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm-fuck-trying to check how bad it is. Can't from over there. And they might come back, maybe-shit, goddamn-they won't use you as punching bag as much if I'm closer."

"My hero," as a dry response had him pause and glare, Jimmy glaring right back up until his fingers twitched and he winced at the movement, looking down at his fingers and prompting Dean to start moving again, almost there.

"Dude, I don't know what your problem is, what kind of stick is up your ass, but we're stuck together and if we have any chance of getting out, you're going to have to suck it up."

"My problem is you." The mechanic kept moving, despite Jimmy boring holes into him with his laser stare because he knew what he was going to say, "I had a normal life, I was happy, my family was happy, Castiel was clean and then you happened and now look where we are! I have no idea where Cas is, if he's somewhere safe or going to do something stupid and some drug lunatic is _breaking_ _my fingers!_ I'm supposed to be spending time with my daughter and wife, Cas is supposed to be flying planes and spending time with Balthazar, God knows why he does, but he should be!" Dean had to agree with almost all of that, even if it might have been spurred on by pent up frustration and the pain getting to him, he did. He fucked up monumentally, he would always fuck up and continue to think he was a toxic person for probably all his life, people were better off staying away from him.

There was just one thing.

"But he wasn't happy."

"… What?"

"He wasn't happy. Castiel," Jimmy paused at that, lips working to get an answer out and Dean kept going, "He may have been clean, he may have told you all kinds of things and you may have been through a lot, but that's not worth jack if you didn't see he wasn't happy." That struck a chord in him and he straightened up, left hand clutching the rest of the chair.

"You be quiet."

"That's not going to make it go away. It's not going to change the fact that you never figured it out, you never saw your own brother, that he didn't tell you because maybe, just maybe, he feels he can't tell you, that he has to fit this perfect, happy expectation you have or else he's not good enough and failing you, even if it's crushing him. He trusted me, someone he just met, over you with this and what does that-"

"Dean, I said _shut up!_ Just shut the hell up!" The outburst surprised him and Jimmy looked a bit surprised, too, at the intensity and hysterical note in it, clenching his jaw and eyes darting away before he could see anything else or say any more. Probably not the best of things to throw out there when he was sporting two broken fingers and all, it did not stop bothering him since he was told, to see that how they interacted, to hear all about how close they were and know everything Castiel thought, that he was not happy, and if anything happened to him, then at least he told Jimmy and they might be able to talk about it, fix it all.

Hypocritical, yes, seeing how he lied through his teeth all the time to Sam and Ellen and plenty of people on his life. That also made him the perfect person to call him out on it before their close knit relationship could deteriorate. It was enough, what was said, and the injuries he already had were reason for him to drop the subject to leave Jimmy with his thoughts, not complaining when he hopped close, to examine his fingers. If Jimmy's cries did not indicate his fingers were broken, the way they were bent and swollen, some bruises forming at the breaks sure did the trick. At least they were not sticking out or anything, there was nothing else he could do, some great hero he was. Both of them sat there, listening to the hum of the air conditioning and cheap lights flicker. An hour, maybe ticked by and Lilith walked in, hands held behind her back.

"Hello, boys!" She practically skipped over to Jimmy, dress fluttering and not showing her hands just yet, "Have you changed your mind? Tell me where your brother is and this might not be so bad."

"I'd say go to hell, but that requires having a soul."

Lilith only gave a happy laugh at that, it was exactly as she expected, "Oh, you're going to be fun to play with." Finally bringing her hands forward, it was a set of needle nose pliers that she had, using the tip to tap at each of Jimmy's fingers of his left hand. There was no real reaction to it, Dean knew he was trying to remain still, schooling his expression and breathing steady, though there was an almost insignificant jump of his ring finger whenever she got too close to his wedding band. Almost insignificant, he said, because it turned out to be extremely significant when Lilith saw and used it to her advantage. Her unoccupied hand darted out, seemingly with the intention to snatch it, and Jimmy slipped up by reacting, finger curling in to prevent her being able to slide it off his finger and leaning forward all he could, scowling and snarling and boy, if that was the last sight that kid had back at his house, he was not jealous one bit.

"You taint it with your touch, I swear to God, I will be the one to end you."

Being possessive and protective of it was understandable. Sanctity of marriage, symbol of their pure love, he got it, he did. However, it was not helping that he gave that away, how much it affected him because it only egged her on, she moved to sit on his lap, legs draped over the right armrest and one arm wrapped around his neck. This only served to leave him even more disgusted, boarding on scandalised at the intrusion of his space, craning his head away when she leant in.

"I like you and I always get what I like and want. But that ring and your little vows seem to trouble you so why don't we…" The pliers dug into the wood of the chair from the force she brought them down with, closing right below the band and Jimmy let out an appropriate swear, buckling some in his seat and grinding his teeth to keep in anything trying to get out, "Just get rid of the problem?"

"Lilith, stop! He doesn't know anything! You fucking bitch!"

Only when the pliers had cut through flesh and blood was staining them did she remove them, the man fighting to catch his breath and shutting his eyes that began to water. Of course, this never bothered her, she was happy to see it and kicked her feet eagerly. It took awhile for Jimmy to compose himself and manage to spit out a coherent thought.

"I-is that… that what you did… w-with that poor girl? Ruby? Just killed… killed her a-and blamed Dean?"

"Oh, you know about that?"

"I know you're… you're beyond saving. Murdering in cold blood… t-taking pleasure in this…"

The female wiped the bloody pliers on the male's shirt before tapping it against her chin in thought, "If I enjoyed it, does it matter? Not cold blood, sweetheart, justice, she gave little Dean information."

"That's not your call! She had a family!"

The mechanic had both no clue that Jimmy actually knew the full extent of what he was framed about or why he was taking it so personally. Ruby was a drug dealer, should he not be pissed, the way he was at Meg?

"Family is important to you, isn't it? Then why not tell me about yours? Like your brother?"

Whatever it was that made him so angry shifted into something else, Jimmy pursing his lips together for a moment then with that same grin as before, opened his mouth.

_"I don't care just what you think as long as it's about me! I said I don't care, I don't care! Said, I don't care, I don't care!"_

That made Lilith's smile drop and then with a hiss, she forced the pliers to one of his nails and tore it off, ripping a scream from the male and Dean kicked, only grazing her feet before she got off of him, glaring and leaving the room. Soft whimpers came from the male, head tilted back and the mechanic noticed that tears did spill over, not unreasonably since fuck, his nail was ripped off almost entirely, barely clinging on.

"Jimmy. Hey, hey, you still with me?"

His mouth opened and closed, sucking in air every time, and he eventually gave up on verbally confirming and nodding instead.

"Jesus… what the hell, man? You and Cas. Singing isn't going to get us out of here."

"I-it… it's s-something that… we used to do. I-I was bullied a lot… a-and Cas would-he'd…" The memory of it caused him to wheeze out a laugh, "He'd sing the most… most ridiculous songs, get them… get them to focus on him while-while I got away… a-and I did it… so he wouldn't get caught d-ditching or something just as bad. K-kind of stuck… but not as useful h-here…"

So when he did it back in Pontiac, that was not the drugs? Admittedly, that was a very useful tactic, even he was a little thrown off and were it not for the necessity to knock out that dick, Gerald, he would have stopped and stared.

"Alright. Just… try not to rub her the wrong way so much any more, you don't have two hundred four nails and we've got to figure a way out."

"I'll try."

What the mechanic defined as trying and what the other defined as trying were decidedly not the same things because Dean was shouting himself hoarse, dick number three holding his chair away from Jimmy, the male screaming for an altogether different reason and letting out a strangled sob, the sounds pleasing Lilith who retracted the bloody pliers, the nail ripped off still between the jaws.

"Fuck! Fuck you, you evil bitch! Face me, damn it! I'm the one you wanted!"

He could have told Jimmy to knock it off all he wanted, yet that probably would not have stopped him, it was like he forgot about it all when certain topics were hit and that was natural, human. Human or not, this bitch was figuring it all out and using it against him, it was their game plan, and Jimmy was falling for it every time she walked back in. This was the third time in however long they were here and the third nail to come off.

Every time, he managed to keep pleasantries up, Lilith would brag or tell him what they would do, then something would cross the line and consequently, so would the man and a nail would go as punishment. She had been explaining what they would do after Castiel arrived and Jimmy spat blood on the floor by her feet.

"For a… a drug ring, you're awfully litigious," he had commented, "C-can't do it yourself? Or even… even know what it means? Did y-you finish school?" And he had chuckled before belting out _I Fought the Law,_ cutting off with the pliers meeting the fingernail of his index finger.

Now the pain had overwhelmed him, he had lost consciousness and Lilith was bored, instructing dick number three, "Make sure he can't move. We'll give Castiel a call once he wakes up," and did not pay Dean or his threats any attention. There was no way Castiel was coming around with friendly intentions if he knew the condition his brother was in and he doubt Jimmy would never let him, he would tell him to stay away. His adamance in not giving away the location or anything about Castiel was admirable, he was lasting much longer than many would initially give him credit for.

How much longer could he last, though? The body could only take so much, he had already thrown up the second time around and passed out once before this, not long after throwing up. If this went on any longer, Jimmy was going to die and he was going to be able to do nothing but watch it happen. Any chance of freeing himself was gone, dick number three saw to that, he could not even move over to him. Testing the ropes and strength of the rests again, as he had continued to do every time they were alone, he called out to the other.

"Jimmy? Jimmy, buddy, don't you quit. You hang on, you hear?"

People sometimes could hear when someone talked to them and they were out, yes? Hopefully, this was working and had him hanging on. Too long passed before the other man groaned and started coming to, having trouble opening his eyes and keeping them so, disoriented.

"Fuck. Jimmy. Talk to me. You good?"

Dean really doubted he was, broken fingers and missing fingernails and all, his chin touching his chest as his breath whistled in and out, eyes now clenching shut as he swallowed, though he asked the same thing once Lilith left.

"… F-fine. Just… just p-peachy," it was the same response he gave to his question, "They're-they're gone?"

That was not usual.

"For now."

"How… h-how long… since I-I got here?"

"Maybe five or so hours?"

"Good… that-that's good. Perfect…"

"How's that perfect? We're not any closer to getting out of here?"

"T-that's your… your problem, Dean… y-you have no faith."

The mechanic watched as his working fingers twitched and he squirmed, arching against the ropes then bending forward as much as possible and apparently flexibility was hereditary with the Novak's–did they have the spine of a cat, was that why Castiel loved cats so much?–he managed much farther than he ever could. Yet, it was not enough to reach the ties, if that was what he was trying to get to, unless wicked long tongues were also genetic, he could reach it then. Somehow, that did not deter Jimmy and he heard him spit before his head started moving in repeated motions, spit and blood drooling out.

What the hell?

He watched, fascinated by what sort of thing he thought his spit of all things was going to do. Unless it was acid, he doubt it did anything when it hit the ropes other than coating them. Except, he heard the telltale sounds of the rope giving way and Jimmy straightened up something over ten minutes later, enough strands of it cut that a swift tug after, his left hand was free.

"What the fuck?"

Bewildered eyes never left the other as he moved something around his mouth until he parted his lips and deposited something like a modified barbell in the palm of his hand, distinctly longer than the usual he saw and far more sharpened than would be advised at one tip. Looking down at where the male had spit, he finally noticed a kind of silicone topper and back up again, the other was smiling tiredly at him in a way that made his heart clench, lips bleeding from where the barbell sliced in as he held it in place and Dean could only imagine how the inside of how mouth looked, now that he knew what was in there this whole time. When he spoke, it sounded a bit like his tongue was sliced up and caused him trouble forming his words and pitch dropping, rougher now, more familiar.

"I promised… I-I would… would keep you safe. A-always."

_"Cas?"_

The amount of pain he willingly put himself through with Lilith, that he still was going through by gripping that barbell and cutting away at the ropes on his other hand, ripping free and working on the ones around his upper half, Dean could not even begin to fathom, or how this was even him. He could hear the sharp intakes of air and partly bitten back whines when his broken fingers snagged on the ropes, able to do nothing but stare as he freed himself and hurried to help him, stumbling a little along the way.

"Jesus, Cas, what-why didn't you say anything?"

Not when anyone else was in the room, of course, but if Dean had known it was him, things might have panned out a little differently. All this time, the mechanic really did believe Castiel was Jimmy all along, he looked like him, acted like him and he sounded like him. Their voices were distinctive from one another, he thought that would be a give away even if they could act like each other, though apparently every part of them was easily mimicked by the other.

"I-I needed… her fooled… kept us alive, d-didn't it?"

"Then Jimmy-"

"-is safe. B-Balthazar is also… very good with technology… so he-he was me, a-at a safe distance."

Once one of his hands was usable, he took care of the rest, allowing Castiel a period of rest until they both were up and about.

"Why the hell not do something earlier? Fuck, your fingers…"

"T-they'll heal. I needed… a confession. P-part of the plan."

Confession… that was why he was saying what he was when they were demanding for Castiel's location, why he let Lilith fuck up his hands, why he reacted, it was a distraction, a tactic to get her to say something that he could not ask openly and expect a honest answer to otherwise, all her vanity turned against her because she was so sure they were going to die, that Jimmy was going to break, she fucked up and gave him sufficient evidence to place the blame on her. Castiel had a plan all along, not one he agreed with, and it had a few unclear spots to him, though he did not simply run in without a thought. And his left hand took his and pulled him towards the door, placing one of his hands on the knob.

"Here. When I say go… w-we're going to run. To our right, turn… turn left and we'll stay there."

"What's there?"

"Safety… and a promise not to get shot."

Considerably better than what they had in this room, Dean would take it. Castiel had his ear pressed to the door, eyes squinting like he would hear better that way and a sound the mechanic could not make out well came minutes later, he must have heard it better because he removed himself from the way.

"Now."

Door opened, Castiel spared no time in taking his hand and running down the corridor, almost tripping a few times despite how he was setting their pace, not coming in contact with anyone even as they turned. Which was strange to Dean, honestly, there should be dicks everywhere. At least it was strange, then the shouts and gunshots going off said no, not strange, the mechanic flinching and expecting a few their way, unlike Castiel who seemed bothered none and kept going, only pausing to look at the doors. One that appeared to be a janitorial closet for whatever reason was the one he was looking for, rushing to it and Dean automatically reached and opened it for them.

It was a very small room. Not even a room, more like a sad excuse of a box. And Castiel shoved him in, following right behind and closing the door before ordering him to get down. Much easier said than done, he had to spread his legs and keep his knees bent in order to fit, Castiel fitting in between them by squatting and using him as a balance, breathing shallowly and shaking with the effort it was taking him to stay in place.

They were out of sight from the small vent that was once at eye level, so he got the need to do this. What he did not entirely grasp was why they did not book it out of there in the first place. Asking questions meant talking and talking risked detection, thus he kept his mouth shut and waited.

And they waited.

And waited some more until Dean knew someone was coming. A lot of someone's, judging by the shuffling and voices and then the door was being flung open and there were lights flashed in their eyes and guns pointed at them.

Castiel, to his credit, only chuckled and offered a wave, broken fingers and all.

"Think I can… get someone t-to look at this? It hurts. Oh… a-and a toothbrush."

The guns lowered and the head honcho of the group radioed in, he was brought up to his feet alongside Castiel and then these guys were forming a circle around them. For protection, or to keep them from running, though he bet the former with how at ease the ATC was and there was the beautiful, beautiful sky, still kind of dark and one of the best sights he ever saw. He noticed, belatedly, the black vans and squad cars, focused more on the gigantor of a little brother coming up to him and squeezing the life out of him.

"Dean. You're alright."

Sam?

What the fuck was he doing here?

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good. What the hell are you doing here?"

They parted and Castiel had been whisked away by some higher up looking guy during that time and what the fuck was Sam doing here? Sam made a face and he instinctively made one back to show him how stupid he looked, his brother running his hand through his freaking mane he still did not cut.

"Saving your ass. Why didn't you ask me for help?"

Dean moved his eyes to the other, watching him talk with some official looking guy before, without any shame, undid the button and zipper of his jeans and was reaching down when he was interrupted by Jimmy, who was clearly saying fuck whatever protocol was present and wanting to check over his brother. So, Dean shrugged and gave his reason, it had not changed in all this time.

"Wasn't your problem anymore, Sammy."

Typical. So typical of Dean. Here he was, helping him, saving him, and instead of a thanks, it was always "wasn't your problem." He loved his brother and he was glad he was safe and unharmed, for the most part, but he really wanted to kick his ass sometimes, show him he could take care of himself.

"Yeah, well, you don't get to make that call, I do. And I got to tell you, doesn't seem like you had it under control from what Jimmy told me."

Wait, what?

"Jimmy told you? When?"

"The day you guys got here."

The day they got here…

Oh.

Oh, that argument he started with Castiel, how he stormed off after, the ATC saying he was staying with Balthazar, was that all part of his plan? How else did the brothers get this all together? What part did Sam play? What the fuck was going on behind his back?

"Doesn't matter now. Point is, it's done. We can catch up on the way."

"On the way?"

Where?

"To the hospital, Dean. I don't think Castiel wants his fingers like that any longer. I don't blame him. And you need to be examined and take a shower, you stink."

Looking back over at Castiel, who was being ushered to a car by his brother and some other guy, a blonde, he caught his eye and the male smiled at him, so he may have let Sam get that hit in this one time.

He had to smile back.

Because, as pissed and annoyed that Sam had to have been involved in this somehow and plenty more to be irked at and how much he wanted to get his hands on Lilith and Azazel, still wanted to make them pay, Sam had a point, in the most important way.

They fucking did it, they got them.

It was finally done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel all along, hooray! Or, not hooray for what he went through, but hooray for them getting out of there. That was the whole reason it stayed in Dean's perspective the whole time, try and make it believable in the narrative. Don't know how well it was done, though;; 
> 
> When I was little, a car door was slammed shut on my fingers and I got so tired of how my nails were after and wanted them off already to grow new again, I thought it was perfectly sound to rip them off. Not a pretty result, so I can only imagine how it feels with perfectly healthy nails.
> 
> And, I actually did try out what Castiel did with the ropes, to see if it was plausible. Well, I didn't actually switch my barbell with a modified one and do all that, I don't have my longer one anymore and it sounds painful to do just for kicks, but I did have rope and something the same length that was sharp and tested how long it would take to cut through it all.
> 
> I'm not certain if there are any other notes. Oh, the song Castiel sings is I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy. And, Captain America reference, in a way, I just watched The Winter Soldier again, haha.
> 
> Almost at the end now!


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has been crashed into, relapsed, fallen off a bridge, stolen cars, been the cause of at least three men's death, had two fingers broken, three fingernails ripped off and plenty, plenty more. And he has no doubt he would go through it all over again if it got him to this point in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, how about that.
> 
> There are some liberties taken, like I just totally made the legal system fast and effective. Not always the case, though it will be now. And it does cover a good deal of time in this last chapter, along with being a good deal lighter in mood and some attempt of humour and such thrown in. There may be typos and such, I'll fix them when I see them.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy! :D

"Let me get this straight…"

To say Dean was a little confused was an understatement and he pointed to Jimmy first.

"You went to my brother, after Cas told you I didn't want him involved because you thought doing it the legal way, something we couldn't do, would be better. And you," now his finger went to Sam, "figured why the fuck not get involved again. And, being the Mr. Justice you are, thought it _morally right_ to send Cas to the one who killed Ruby and not only that, but with a goddamn _wire_  that you just hoped they wouldn't notice because he stuck it in his pants?"

Dean was sitting in the waiting room, something a little odd to him, it always has been, why did emergency rooms have waiting rooms? Tacking on emergency made it seem urgent, not something someone could sit around waiting for help if they, say, were bleeding out or something. A nurse had checked him over already, nothing was broken or terribly fucked up, he passed their little twenty questions and was let go. Castiel, on the other hand, was taken one look at when he got there and rushed inside, an expected reaction when his fingers were dripping blood, he could no longer properly move any of his fingers on his right hand, the swelling preventing it, and blood was staining his mouth.

Back to the present case.

"You," the mechanic paused at the blonde sitting next to Jimmy, having a grand old time absentmindedly flipping through a magazine, eyes on fixated on the door going to him, "I have no idea what the fuck you did. Drive them around? Fuck with radios?" The man had not said a peep since Dean arrived with Sam, though his money was on this guy being Balthazar, Castiel did not mention anyone else being in on this little plan.

"You looked much better on the telly."

And okay, wow, not the time to insult his looks–he was held captive for some amount of hours, give him a break–or even comment on them and he gave a smirk, a brief one that dropped when he looked back at the door, waiting for it to open.

"If there was a different way, you know I would've take it, Dean," Sam was talking now and looked rightfully regretful of what he had done, "But, we were running out of time and after that voicemail, Castiel was going to rush in there without a plan, we couldn't get anywhere on just a hunch, we needed something solid. And… we had the advantage. They look exactly alike, Castiel swore he could pass off as Jimmy and get what we needed."

The mechanic looked over at the male slumped in his seat, twisting the still somewhat bloodied wedding band now on his finger and gnawing at his bottom lip.

"And you just let your brother go in like that?"

Jimmy's attention jumped to him and he scowled and huh, how about that, it really was a perfect imitation of it.

"I didn't want him to. I was alright with doing it myself and was making my point as to why I could do it then someone," a glare was sent Balthazar's direction, "had to open their mouth and mention my shoulder might make it difficult for me."

"You know perfectly well he wouldn't have let you anyway."

Then Castiel did know what happened, it was not a fluke that he acted the part to the tee, from the moment they tied him up and touched his shoulder to when Lilith left them alone and he sawed his way out of the ropes.

Any more discussion would have to wait, the door opened up and Castiel walked out, waving goodbye to the nurse and making his way over, though they were all already up and coming to him. And the first thing the ATC did was lift his right hand at Dean, showing off what he thought was an outrageously unnecessary behemoth of a brace, the doctor called it a dorsal blocking splint, frowning at the injustice of it all and speaking up, speech slurred as a result of numbing his mouth to stitch up some areas.

"This seems excessive."

The man gave a laugh and brought him in for a hug, one he returned, patting his back with his left hand, which was not as bad off, though the tips were wrapped up to the point where he could not feel anything he touched, his ring finger wrapped up at the knuckle.

"I can't believe you, you reckless ass."

"I happen to know someone well versed in that art, I took a page from his book."

Here they all were, five grown adults, in the waiting room of the emergency room, as normal as they could be with being in the waiting room of the emergency room, two of them battered up, and Castiel loved it.

Not a normal scenario in the least for most, but it certainly was enough for him.

Pushing the limit of how long they could remain in the waiting room without looking suspicious, they all ended up in Sam's car, which Dean made fun of for being a "plastic piece of crap," and then at his place. Castiel had to let both his brother and Balthazar know yes, he was fine, he did not need anything, he was not going to pass out right there a total of twelve times before he was left alone with Dean.

"We should get out of these clothes."

"Are you propositioning me?"

"Maybe later."

For now, Dean led them into the bathroom and helped Castiel out of his shirt, stopping short once he did.

"Your tattoos."

They were gone.

"We weren't sure what they might do, better safe than sorry, so everything had to go. Except the tongue piercing, of course."

It was strange, seeing Castiel like this. Accustomed to ink decorating his skin and not just holes where the hip and nipple piercings jewellery should be, this did not fit him, he decided, and was more than happy to get the tub filled up and the rest of his clothes off. When the other got in, he sighed happily and sunk in all the way, careful to keep his arms above water. The water almost instantly turned a dark brown colour and when he came back up, dye was running from his hair.

"Temporary dye?"

"Yes. I've found myself growing attached to how my hair was again."

"It suits you."

By the end, the water was a murky colour, a mix of temporary hair dye and makeup, and Castiel felt far cleaner than before. It was only when he got out, towel around his waist and head tilted back some to allow Dean to put his septum clicker back in, the last of them all, that the other finally grabbed his left wrist.

"What's this?"

His thumb traced the cuts going across horizontally and the one that went vertically, the lightest of them all. To ask was polite, nothing more, it was obvious the intentions and he pulled his wrist back, disregarding it with a nonchalant, "You should get cleaned up now." He was allowed to move and sat down on the toilet, lid down, unsure of where he was supposed to go. Jimmy was in the guest bedroom, Balthazar took the couch and his only set of clothes were filthy.

"Can you answer something for me, honest?"

"Always."

"Do you… you don't feel like that anymore, do you? I mean… we got them, everyone's safe, we're here, we don't have to run anymore."

All of that was true. They no longer had to run, Jimmy was going to be able to go back to his life, Lilith and Azazel were as good as gone, to be locked up once everything was over, and sucked as it may, getting his fingernails ripped off and fingers broken really put a lot of things in perspective, mainly how his days-brief meth use was not, as he thought, the end of the world. There was still a hollowness in him, whenever he thought of it, that siphoned away all his motivation. Not as bad as before and that had to be a victory, in some ways.

"… No. No, I don't think I do."

Just another battle to be fought and won, that was all.

Battles fought were always an odd concept to Castiel. There was always a good and a bad, not adequately defined sometimes, since people were biased. And how could that be, he wondered, when it came to certain acts committed in battles that were blatantly wrong, morally, and people who committed them would say it was right, they were right.

It just made no sense to him.

With that said, it made no sense to him when the trial rolled along and he had to sit there, listening to some man go on about how Lilith and Azazel were not guilty. Did they not see his broken fingers or wrapped fingertips, were they blind, were they deaf and did not hear the confessions? It was their job, yes, and they needed to put food on the table, but surely there had to be a different way.

The whole damn thing was odd.

Testifying was odd, listening to himself pretending to be Jimmy was odd, listening to other testimonies was odd, the courtroom felt too stuffy and formal and odd, he wanted to get out of there.

What ended up being the one not odd thing was when they were found guilty and if any good came from what his hands went through, it was that. Hell, he would take all his fingers breaking and nails ripped off if it got him that. It meant Dean was free, he was not charge with anything. Actually, that might be going a bit too far, he had racked up some amount of law breaking acts in the many months he had been on the run. Most were not known and Sam had advised him to keep it that way, dealing with only the known ones in a way that proved he was very, very good at his job and Dean was not thrilled about community service, nonetheless choosing that over being locked up. Any charges against him, which the most was his assaulting a security guard and a somewhat shoddy video to prove it, Sam managed to get dropped, which was neat.

Lawyers, they were something else.

Either way, Castiel was happy about how it turned out if only because he saw Dean every day, having invited him to stay with him for the duration of it all. The first thing he did was introduce him to Queen. After a very lengthy reunion consisting of Her Highness meowing nonstop at him and not budging from his lap and Castiel may have cried a little.

He missed her a lot, alright?

Dean had let her sniff his fingers then pet her, chuckling at her eagerness.

"I got to say, I owe you a hell of a lot more than Fancy Feast, Your Highness, seeing as you're the reason I met Cas here."

Queen meowed.

Dean sneezed.

There was allergy medicine in his medicine cabinet since then.

Jimmy had, reluctantly, stayed with Balthazar in this time, often complaining about him although never leaving until it was all over. Only when it was did he feel comfortable enough to allow Amelia to come with Claire to pick him up and tears were shed by all. Amelia looked horrified to see Castiel's condition, she hugged him tight and did not let go for a long time.

"Castiel, your hands…"

"It's a bit troublesome, yes, but I've still got most use of my left hand, so I can write and work still."

"Is it true, then? Jimmy says it's all okay now, that we can go back to Pontiac."

That had been a topic of some debate at first, with very good reason. Because, learning that Jimmy had been shot was bad, him saying he wanted to go back home was even worse. What was to stop Alastair from going after them again, simply for the sake of making a point? A call on Skype with Charlie gave reason not to worry because hey, look at that, Charlie to the rescue again. She had been working this entire time with what she got from Castiel, Jimmy and some other locals and maybe let some information slip to Alastair about an opportunity to expand business that maybe was constructed in a way that possibly exposed his dealings, so he was not going to be bothering anyone anytime soon. The ATC had sat there with Dean after the video chat ended, stumped.

"Did we just dismantle two different drug operations?"

Yes, the answer he was looking for was yes and he let Amelia know it.

It was a little surreal once that really sunk in. Alastair, Meg, they were what he knew growing up, their world of drugs and sex and crime, that was a big part of what defined him, what made him grow into the person he was now and now they were… gone. No longer would there be the possibility of running into them in Pontiac when he visited, no more deals, no more offers, no more drugs.

No more drugs.

That… made him very happy.

And for the first time in a long time, he did not think about the little scale in his head, trying to rate this level of happiness to the euphoria of drugs because there were no more drugs. Granted, there were in other places, they would never truly go away, but they did in the places that counted for him and that was something he did not think would happen in his lifetime. His family would be safe there, he would never have to be concerned about what if they went after Claire when she was older, he could simply enjoy playing with her, worry-free.

Claire, the sweet soul, knew her uncle was hurt and kissed it better. Then the hand came alive and was going to eat her, peals of laughter filling the halls of the apartment building as Castiel chased her down. Jimmy watched this unfold with his wife, seeing his brother snatch her off the ground with his left arm and laugh as he spun her around, smiling.

"I told you he'd come back to us, Ames."

What was back, though?

Back, as in clean, yes. His brother had not itched for meth or anything similar, he had gotten through the withdrawal period relatively unscathed, but what did that really mean? Regardless of not being the one in that room with Dean, he heard everything, not simply what happened in that call he answered and some of it still haunted him.

_That's not worth jack if you didn't see he wasn't happy._

He thought he was.

_You never saw your own brother._

All this time, was it really a lie? Was Castiel ever actually happy? Jimmy stayed quiet about it thus far, thinking it was a subject that should be addressed once everything was calm. Everything was calm now, Amelia and Claire were here for him, Dean was off somewhere with Balthazar, this had to be done before he left. He let them play a little longer, took his eyes off them for one second and the next he almost had a heart attack.

"Cas! What did you do?"

Claire did not have that blue in her hair earlier, a simple streak, though it was blue and she looked unbelievably happy with it.

"It's just a clip in extension, brother. She wanted blue hair, I gave it to her because daddy wouldn't."

The girl bounced off to show her mother after planting a great big kiss on her uncle's cheek and Jimmy sighed, "You spoil her too much."

"I think I do the right amount of spoiling."

Loath was he to ruin the light mood, yet he had to know.

"Cas… what Dean said-"

"Don't, Jimmy. I… please don't."

In any other case, he would listen. Not for this, not if what Dean said was true, not if he was doing this to his own brother, "No. You don't," That made him look at him, taken back a little at the response, "Don't do it, don't pretend, don't feel like you have to say you're happy for my sake, for mother's, for anyone. You be you and even if that's the most pessimistic human being to ever walk the earth, I'll love you no less. You're my brother, Castiel, I'm so thankful that you are, that's all I'll ever ask of you, just… just be my brother."

Castiel stood there, blinked, and grinned, "I don't think I could stop even if I wanted. I've tried." He got an eye roll and shove as a response, it was typical of him to joke like that, never one to keep it too somber, and he knew he understood because of that.

"You assbutt." They walked down to the street together, where Amelia and Claire were already in the car, waiting and he decided, might as well, he saw how they interacted, heard them talk, everything, "You know… it's okay, to have someone to help, show you what happy is. Don't be so damn loud all the time, though, not everyone is as tolerant of you as I am."

The ATC smiled at that and gave his brother a parting hug.

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

When he got back to his apartment, Dean was sitting at his small dining table, pale as a sheet and clutching his mug of coffee and he immediately went to his side.

"Dean? What is it? What's wrong?"

Did something happen with Lilith and Azazel? Someone else? Something unspeakably horrendous?

Wide emeralds slid over to him and he swallowed thickly, "Nothing," his voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat to try again, "Nothing, really. Just, uhm… how serious is Balthazar when he says stuff?" He sat down beside him, eyebrows knitting together and tending to his own mug of tea.

What could Balthazar say to leave him like this?

"Stuff?"

"Like, threatening stuff kind of stuff."

His tea was the right temperature now, it would not irritated his still healing mouth, "Usually, he's very serious about that. Why?" Exactly the ideal temperature and he savoured the lingering taste of the honey in it.

"Because I think he threatened me with some sort of HydroMax X30 water pump and booty boot camp kit."

Castiel ended up choking on his tea and spluttering out an uncontrollable laugh at that mental image and Dean's cries of, "That's not funny, man!" only had him laughing louder, his stomach hurting by the time he managed to calm down.

Yes, maybe it was okay to have someone show him what it meant to be happy and Castiel would not have it be anyone else but Dean.

Unfortunately, time did pass, as it should, and Dean had to go back to Lawrence, there was still his business to run and Castiel would never ask him to leave it, that was what he had left of his father. And Charlie came to get him, in the Impala, which he was delighted to see, claiming, "Oh, you are a sight for sore eyes, baby."

Charlie was excited to explore and Castiel took them around, regardless of how exhausted he was from work and knowing he would be going in five hours from then.

Work was… an experience, to go back to. His boss greeted him back when he met with him, told him he was sorry for what he went through, and he was welcome to start again as soon as possible. The averted eyes and detached way he did so, along with his coworkers, was something he had been preparing for and it made it no less tense whenever he went in. Before, he used to like the slower hours, it gave him time to think, to mull over stuff he was otherwise to busy to entertain. Now, he lived for the busier hours, when he would not catch eyes on his dyed hair or piercings he never bothered hiding anymore, like he was some sort of animal they were waiting to lash out.

If he was tired, he would not be on call as much, less people around, better for him. And he was going to spend as much time with Dean as he could. Charlie, too, of course, she was a lovely girl and an amazingly brilliant one at that, he looked forward to talking to her. She had given them their space, however, because it was time for Dean to go, the man standing in front of him with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Dude, goodbyes suck."

"This is more of a see you later, isn't it? Goodbye sounds… absolute."

"Doesn't suck any less."

"I think you'll manage, Dean, you're a big boy."

Dean chuckled at that, pulling out his hands so he could pull the other in, "Yeah. Got all two hundred six bones in me, don't I?" When he pulled away, he kept his hands on his shoulders, "Take care, Cas. You and Queen. And, if you ever need anything, doesn't matter when-"

"Yes, I'll call and you'll impress me with your heroics."

They had managed to set up a rough schedule of times they could call or Skype each other, the time difference and Castiel's job leaving few openings for it, although Castiel was convinced they would manage. And Dean would visit, since he already came by on occasion to visit Sam and Kansas was not that far from Illinois, he could make a detour every so often.

For all the hullabaloo people made about emotional departures, the ATC thought this was pretty tame. The hug, some words and a kiss that, he thought, was skirting dangerously close to not appropriate for public display and Dean was in the Impala, taking off down the street.

And that was that.

Castiel went back to his routine, whatever kind of routine he could have with his job switching around his hours erratically–apparently, seniority did not mean shit once someone was accused of wrongdoing, even if falsely accused–with the addition of talking with Dean. About a month in, one night on Skype, he had called him from a bar and that was when he met Ellen, a kind woman if not a little intimidating from what he gathered and he thanked her for taking care of his family when they needed a place to stay and to keep Dean in line, as a joke.

She still promised she would.

He also met Joanna Beth, Ellen's daughter, who preferred being called Jo and had been questioned relentlessly about who he was, where did he work and whether or not he and Dean had sex in the weeks they had together. Not seeing anything wrong with the nature of that question, he answered with a blunt, "Yes. Many times." The camera had gone shaky then and he heard Jo and Dean.

"I knew it!"

"Stop meddling in my sex life just because you're jealous, Jo!"

That was an interesting night.

And another month had gone by and he was excruciatingly bored of his routine, it was somewhat shocking. Maybe because he had grown used to what Dean made him feel, the fact that he did not feel like he was tumbling like a forgotten sock in the dryer in the time they had together, going over and over again in the same cycle until the damage was done. Not that he wanted to experience everything he did in those weeks again, the drugs and threats and such, far from it.

Something… different, though.

He spent four days thinking about it, really honestly thinking about it, before opening up his laptop, logging into Skype and calling, listening to the animated rings and the call was answered five seconds later.

"Castiel. How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you. And you? Are you busy?"

"Good, as well. And I'm not, no. Is something wrong?"

Castiel smiled.

"No, nothing's wrong. Actually, I wanted to ask you for a favour, Hannah…"

Hannah was the best at what they did, as air traffic controllers and pilots, and no one would ever convince him any differently. She had graduated with the highest marks of their class, came from the top flight team in the nation, Castiel was lucky to have gotten to know her in school and made such a great friend. She was kind and willing to help any in need, she had proven that when he had transferred over and had no clue what he was doing. And she was doing it again now, agreeing to help him out and promising to keep him updated, warning him it could take a while, even with her connections.

That was fine, he said, he had waited this long, he could wait awhile longer.

A month and a half went by with periodic updates, a few things sent over or filled out when Hannah asked, and then the most peculiar text came in.

 _Hannah Now_  
_Please open the entrance, I don't know the password._

There should have been maybe a little more shame in how he ran down the stairs in nothing but slip on shoes and sweats, for the elderly lady in apartment one's sake, yet that was the last thing on his mind when he saw who was standing outside the apartment building.

"Hannah? Inias? What are you doing here?"

"We came to show you something."

Castiel blinked.

"I should… probably get dressed."

"Or stand there and let me look at you, dear!"

It turned out Mrs. Tate was very appreciative of his inadvertent show.

All he ended up putting on was a decent looking shirt and jeans, in the car with the two and Hannah tossed him a sleeping mask.

"I'm not tired, but thank you?"

What was he supposed to do with this?

"Put it on. You can't see where we're going. And these."

Noise blocking headphones were thrown on his lap and if he was not certain these were two of his closest friends, this would be worrisome. They were, so he did what they said and enjoyed the ride, feeling the car come to a stop and doors opening, shutting, then his door opened and he was guided out. It smelt a little like gasoline here and oil. And food, fries in particular. Asking, "Where are we going," was pointless and he let himself be led around for however long they wanted, finally stopping.

Hannah was the one who removed the headphones and mask, the man having to blink a few times to adjust and impressed by how soundproof those headphones were, he did not even hear the engines roaring above him before that. In front of him was a Cessna 182C Skylane, with a fantastically done new paint job that would make him cry if he had to pay for it, the deep blue and grey accenting the fuselage marvellously, and he glanced at the N-Number.

"You came all the way to California to show me your plane's new paint job?"

Inias was never the kind of man to brag about anything he had, deep pockets he may have, yet always humble. This humbleness was also paired with how giving he was, taking his left hand and placing the keys in it.

"Your plane's new paint job."

Holy fucking shit on a stick.

"… You're fucking."

Normally, he might be a little less crude but right now, fucking hell, what the fuck, son of a bitch, _what?_

_His plane?_

"I'm not. Hannah called me a while ago, told me what you were planning, and I talked to Jimmy about it. He wanted to buy it off me, actually, I wouldn't let him."

Jesus Christ, these planes ran anywhere between $48,000 to $74,000, based on their condition, then throwing in $5,000 or more for the new paint job and Jimmy was trying to _buy it_ for him?

Neither of them had that kind of money to spare.

"I… but the money? And-and the… this is too big, Inias."

Too big of a gift, not something he deserved.

He wanted his own plane for years now, he dreamt it often, of finally scraping together enough money to buy a reliable Cessna or maybe a Piper, he flew both of them before and loved them, never did he expect to be handed one like this.

"I found a good seller, she's got a Piper Aztec she needs off her hands that I want. And, if you'll have it, I know it'll be in good hands. Consider it an early birthday gift."

Very deep pockets and a heart of gold if this was what he was called a birthday gift.

"Fucking hell. I… I need to sit down."

Sat down he did, right on the floor of the hanger it was in, running his hand through his hair and taking a moment to process this. Or, many, many moments, either worked.

"You… why? I mean, thank you, thank you so much, I love it… still, why?"

Inias smiled and sat down beside him, Hannah following suite on his other side and suddenly, he felt like he was twenty again, back in school and planning something that would undoubtedly get them all in trouble if they were caught.

"Jimmy talked with Dean."

Oh. That was probably awkward, he was unsure Jimmy had stopped messing with him by now, admitting he found it amusing keeping Dean on his toes all the time and he would stop in time.

"And whatever they talked about, he seemed adamant in you having a plane, said it was your happy place and you deserved it. I concurred."

How he ever landed such friends, he thought he would never figure it out and Hannah placed her hand on his and smiled.

"How would you like to have your first flight?"

Castiel would never say no to that.

It was always liberating, flying, and though this plane was not meant for acrobatic purposes, nor did he actually have training in that, being in the sky was exciting enough and he did do some spins, all three of them laughing all the while.

There was never a time he flew and did not have a smile that lasted hours after.

"Hey, Cas. You seem extra happy today."

Dean noticed this, too, that night on Skype. He was worn out from the day, having to deal with customers, some of which, for some reason, were perfectly fine coming to his place for help, but would not have him work on their cars. Bobby said it would pass eventually, to let the dust settle, and why not head on home early. Taking the advice turned out to be a good thing, he was able to Skype with Castiel who looked a lot happier than he had the past few days. They were both still dealing with people looking at them the wrong way, even if a few months had gone by, though he felt that he was a little better off in the long run.

Compared to his months, the ATC only had a few weeks of running, but society was a weird thing. Castiel had tattoos and piercings and not natural hair colour, it was all the markings of what was unacceptable. Dean, well, he looked like an average guy, he thought. And if it ever got to be too much for him, he was able to go into his office, not see customers, he was not stuck in some tower or whatever Castiel was stuck in with other workers.

It sucked, either way, for them both.

So, to see Castiel happy made him happy, made it a little less of a bitch to deal with the day.

"Yes, I am. I have accomplished my goal."

"Which one?"

"I have successfully managed to get myself kicked out of one of Balthazar's photoshoots. He didn't want to do it in the first place."

Dean laughed at how proud Castiel looked at this, gummy smile and all.

"Dude, congrats! Haven't you been trying for years? How'd you do it?"

"I have been, yes. I must've been lacking inspiration before. And it began with a box full of jelly-filled doughnuts…"

A half hour later, they both had dissolved into laughter as Castiel was trying to finish what he was told before he was escorted out.

"Jesus Christ, Cas, I wish I could've been there to see it."

"Ah, it was a very amusing chain of events, I should have recorded it for you. Of course, I didn't know the pigeon would come in."

Castiel was keeping out parts of why he was so happy, for good reason. Everything he said did happen, it happened just two days ago and this was the first time he Skyped with Dean since then. Not a lie, then, just giving away part of it. The rest of it would come soon, in a week, it was already set. So, he talked with Dean, listening to his days at work, and he thinks one of them eventually fell asleep and either connection died or one of their laptops did.

In this week before he let Dean know the other reason to his happiness, he spent his time more or less the same was he always did. He spent time with Queen, with Balthazar. He even took the blonde to see his plane–a fact he still had to wrap his head around–and for a ride, something the Brit thoroughly enjoyed. This was much better than that ghastly commercial airline.

Though, when the plane was back in the hanger and they were sitting there, watching some planes take off and land, both saying fuck it and getting some sort of thing called a slush, a honeydew one for him and watermelon for Castiel, that no doubt was loaded with unnecessary sugars and had these nifty little things called boba, he thought he should say something.

"So, you're going to tell him soon, aren't you?"

"I am, yes. One more day left."

"How do you think he'll take it?"

"Assumptions are not my strong suit, though I imagine happily."

"Hell of a thing, Cassie."

Castiel stabbed the remaining bits of slush that had frozen up together with the fat straw, humming in thought. It was a "hell of a thing," like Balthazar said. Though, things like that were kind of their thing, he decided.

It was a hell of a thing that Dean would take him away from his life by crashing into him. It was a hell of a thing that he would turn to drugs again to keep his family safe. It was a hell of a thing that they all fell into the fucking Missouri River in the dead of night. The whole experience was a hell of a thing.

"I know."

Why not add one more?

\---

Sometimes, Dean could not believe how little people took care of their cars. Did the check engine light mean nothing, or the fact that the battery has given out a few times not reason enough to get a new damn battery? People like that sometimes came in and sometimes they called in, to request being towed over since for some strange as hell reason that had nothing to do with how little they care for their car, it would not budge.

This, sadly, has happened yet again.

Bobby would normally go along and tow the damn car, if he were not already busy and everyone else was busy, too. It was up to him, then, to snatch the paper Bobby had written the name of the person and street, get into the tow truck and drive off. This guy–Joshua Ano–called because his car would not start and he tried everything already. People always say that and once, he had to go to check it out only to find out the car was not in park, so it would not start.

If this was the case, he would really like to leave this Joshua on his own and he would if it was not bad for business and he was a lesser man. This was supposed to be one of his shorter days and he was eager to go home, relax and call Castiel. He had been having a difficult time with his schedule lately, more so than usual and this was a time he could talk.

Let this be quick.

Out of all places to break down, near the Pine Landscape Centre was not something he saw coming. People were friendly there, why not ask them? Maybe it was a serious problem if he had to call to be picked up. Slowing to a stop when he came to the area, seeing the lone car pulled off to the side and coming up behind it, he narrowed his eyes to look for anything immediately off.

Other than the car itself, a far cry from what was usually brought in, nothing seemed to give away what was wrong. The driver was sitting on the hood of the car, hands tucked inside the pockets of his bomber jacket and hood pulled up, looking as cool as a freaking cucumber for having a nonfunctional vehicle.

Getting out of the truck, Dean eyed this whole scene warily, this man was not budging, still facing away from him and he glanced around to make sure no one was going to get the jump on him out of nowhere, that was the last thing he needed.

"Hey. You, uh, you Joshua?"

The mechanic halted by the passenger door–just in case, could anyone really blame him?–when the man finally lifted his head and acknowledged someone else was there with him. And Dean was already on edge when he hopped off and slowly moved to face him, hand lifting to pull off the hood.

"No, I don't think I am."

Reasonably, Dean should do something other than stand there, gaping, as the man came up to him.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas…"

Castiel smiled at the flabbergasted look, reaching up to snap his mouth shut so he could press a kiss to his lips.

"Surprise."

No shit, this was a surprise, Dean thought.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were at work."

"Well, flying a plane takes some work, I think."

"You flew here?"

"Yes. I have a plane now, a Cessna 182. I still don't believe it myself, honestly."

"You have _a plane?_ What the hell's going on?"

Castiel never mentioned owning a plane or purchasing one since they last saw each other. Wanting one, yes, but they were significantly more costly than a car. He also did not mention the intention of visiting, not that he was complaining, he was ecstatic to see him.

"Inias' idea of an early birthday gift. And, I think, what's going on is I'm trying to get a feel of the city I'll be calling home, since I didn't exactly have the luxury of looking around last time I was here."

What?

_Home?_

At a loss for words, Dean's brows furrowed and a shocked puff of air was all that managed to come out. His home? Castiel left his job, a job he mentioned paid quite a lot given it was at an international airport, the place he had lived in for years, the apartment he had grown to love, to come here? Lawrence was a great place, he loved it, but compared to places Castiel was used to spending his time in like LA or Ontario and all the surrounding areas, this was a tiny place. And now Castiel was explaining this all, seeing his confusion.

"Awhile back, I asked Hannah if she could pull a few strings and my transfer to Wichita Airport was finalised not long ago. Balthazar will be bringing Queen in a few days since I didn't want her uncomfortable on the plane, along with some things I couldn't fit on it. Besides, I don't think ONT will miss me, they were just waiting for a reason to get rid of me."

"Holy shit, Cas… really? This is…"

"A hell of thing?"

"Yes."

Castiel chuckled and shook his head, taking his hand and Dean was glad to see that his finger joints were not as enlarged as before, there was the chance that the scarring might not be so bad and it would reduce to its normal size, his nails were growing back, too.

"Do you remember, what I said when we first got out of Pontiac, at the Gas-n-Sip?"

"That we had to end it?"

"There was that. But, what came after. I don't remember as much as I'd like about that time, the meth… makes it difficult," the ATC had slowly begun to accept that was what he had done and not spiral into a brief depression every time he did. If he could talk about using amphetamines and other drugs in the past, then he could talk about meth, use the experiences to his benefit, to other's benefit, his story could help, "What I do remember, though, extremely well… is saying that it would take both of us, we had to stay together, I needed you to trust me. You had all the reason not to, I was snorting ridiculous amounts, I left you with nothing but a note and you still trusted me. We did it, in the end, you and I, we beat it all."

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, this speech was not rehearsed at all, he thought it should come from the heart and all, though Castiel hoped he was not making an ass of himself, it would really kill the moment.

"And… I think it'll always take us two, together, for anything we might face. Like I said before, you are mine and I am yours, that is what matters to me, nothing else. So, if it's a choice between there and here, there's no doubt in my mind that I'll always chose here. This is happiness, for me, and I think… I think I'm finally beginning to believe that it's something I really can have."

That was all he thought to say, if he tried to say any more he would only end up rambling on even longer than he already did. Dean was staring at him this whole time and normally, this would be nice, he could do this. Except now he was a little nervous, maybe he should have told him ahead of time, not just let Charlie and Jo know so they could ensure it was Dean who would come when he made the call.

"I think you're supposed to say something now."

Anything, really. Perhaps his way of saying something was yanking him close and crushing their lips together and that was something Castiel was perfectly fine with, although a little breathless when it was over and having the life squeezed out of him.

"You know you're awesome, right?"

"I'm acutely aware of this, yes. You are, too."

Releasing the other, he took another look at the car he found him with and raised a brow.

"So, what's this? Like a pimpmobile?"

Azures glided on over to the Continental, one that was waiting for him when he arrived at Lawrence Airport that was some kind of gift or bargain, something he had not focused too much on.

"I like it."

"Of course you do. Did you have an actual problem with it or was all of this just an elaborate plan?"

"It was an elaborate plan…"

That was something Dean could see coming from him, although the sheepish smile was new.

"Or it was until I ran out of gas."

Dean laughed, "Geez, you really don't use cars often, do you?" And that was fine, Dean had all the time in the world to teach him about car maintenance. So long as they were together, they could face anything, Castiel got that right.

And Dean would have it no other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! 
> 
> I had this ending in mind since the very beginning, that Castiel would move to Lawrence as a surprise and they'd have a happy life. This story was a really interesting one for me and funnily enough, the only real sort of prompt I had for all of this was "what if Castiel ended up handcuffed to Dean?" Then this all came to be. Using outlines and all never work well with me, I should probably learn to use them, but I never do, haha;;
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll be adding to this story any more. What would I do, their happy little life? A proposal? Wedding? I have no idea.
> 
> In case anyone is interested in leaving a prompt, saying hello or whatever you may please, my Tumblr is eventidexilluminations.tumblr.com/  
> I believe that is how you type it out. I don't know how it looks on the computer, I'm always on mobile, but it's there and all. 
> 
> And, I want to thank everyone for their support, I really do appreciate it. I especially want to thank lizerd70, your comments at the end of every chapter always made my day and kept me writing if I ever got stuck. You're amazing. c: Oh, and I tried to add in that part with Balthazar threatening, even if I didn't actually show the scene. Looking up the toys was an experience enough, I wasn't sure how I'd put it into an amusing enough threat.
> 
> I don't know any other notes to add. Have a go at my other story, if you'd like. And be the lovely people that you are.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a lovely day! c:


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